


Break on Through (To the Other Side)

by Athelassa



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athelassa/pseuds/Athelassa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is no secret that Ward has always been his own worst enemy. Can he accept that he has followed the wrong man and made the wrong choices?<br/>After Hydra tries to cross him off in prison, Ward has to face his old team members again. He needs to decide if he truly wants a second chance, especially when it means to finally close the door to the past he had with Garrett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Some things first: I’m not a native English speaker and I probably made some mistakes on the way. Sorry. Then second I wanted to mention that the idea of Ward being attacked in prison by Hydra is not entirely my own idea. I read a fic a few days ago in which exactly the same thing happened and I liked this idea a lot. Don’t worry, my story will unfold very differently after this initial similarity. Still, I wanted to ask the author for permission to use her idea, but I couldn’t find the story anymore, so I guess it was deleted. Which is a shame, because I really liked it. So, if the author of that story reads this here by accident, I hope it’ll be fine that I borrowed your idea.

_Chapter 1_

Coulson received the call at 9 o’clock in the morning when he was just about to leave his office on the Bus for a team meeting. For the last three months he had waited for a message from exactly this number, which was why he answered the phone quickly and with a small sigh of relief.

“Yes?”

“Director Coulson?”, a female voice asked briskly. “This is Agent Johnson. I’m calling because of inmate 2-6-1-8.”

“So, has he finally talked?”

“No, sir. He is just now being transferred to the hospital. He was shot twice and it’s not looking good.”

It took a second or two for this message to sink in and when it did, all Coulson could do was stutter, “What? How? By whom?”

“Another Hydra agent that was still lying low in our ranks”, Johnson answered and even over the phone he could hear a note of contrition in her voice. “Luckily enough, this sleeper was working in administration and has only been used as an administrative force by Hydra. No field training and barely enough knowledge to handle a gun. He didn’t know what he was doing and he obviously didn’t finish the job. We could take him into custody without any resistance from his side.”

Coulson took a moment to process this piece of information.

“How come the inmate didn’t just disarm him and try to break out, if the assailant was as untrained as you say, Agent Johnson?”

“That’s... another thing I’d like to discuss with you, sir”, she replied slowly and carefully. “It would be best if you watched the feeds from the surveillance cameras yourself.”

“Okay”, Coulson replied and started to massage his neck with his free hand. He could practically feel the tension mount in the muscles of his back. Another setback for S.H.I.E.L.D., his team and their fight against Hydra. In the last few months he had watched the agency flail and come apart at the seams, but at least they had managed to break its fall a tiny little bit. His team was working day and night to make a difference, and they would have deserved to hear some good news for once. Though hearing that Ward was killed by his own people might be seen as a reason to celebrate for some of his team members...

Coulson sighed and began to palm his eyes, feeling the tension mount and resolving into a full-blown head-ache. He got a lot of those lately.

“How badly is he hurt?”, he finally asked after a moment of silence.

“Two gunshot wounds, a through-and-through to the abdomen and a bullet lodged in his left leg”, Johnson answered matter-of-factly. “Arterial bleeding in three places. He lost consciousness from blood loss even before we could get him out of his cell. As I mentioned, sir, it’s not looking good.”

“Alright”, he replied. “I’ll be with you at the prison in two hours. Until then, keep me informed if the inmate’s condition has changed in any way.”

“Yes, sir”, he heard Johnson’s acknowledgement before he hang up. Too many unanswered questions demanded that he went to inspect the site of the attempt for himself. He had kept tabs on Ward right from the beginning of his incarceration and since then had played everything concerning their former team member close to the chest. Nevertheless, he could not be at two places at the same time, so he picked up his phone again and began typing in a number.

“Agent Barton?”, Coulson spoke. “I need a favor of you.”

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

When Coulson came back from his meeting with Agent Johnson and the inspection of the high-security prison, his head-ache was so bad that he only longed to be back in his quiet office and throw back one or two aspirins that he kept in his drawer for exactly this reason. However, as usual, his team had other ideas. While Skye and Simmons only sent a few suspicious glances his way when he came back to the Bus and asked where he had been, May chose a more direct approach. She waited for him in front of his office door, her arms crossed.

“You’re keeping something from us, Phil”, she said quietly and made no move to budge from her place when he tried to squeeze by her to get into his office. “And I want to know what it is. I thought we’re done hiding things from one another.”

Coulson sighed and pondered a moment if he should pull rank on her, then had to tamp down on a slightly hysterical laugh, because he knew exactly that it would not work. Pulling rank, in his situation, with S.H.I.E.L.D. in a state of dissolution, on May of all people... Yes, he had definitely had better ideas before. Besides, she was like a bloodhound who sniffed his secrets and quickly turned into a pit-bull that would not let go until she had her answers. No chance she would just let this matter go.

“Come on in”, he invited her in his office, defeated.

May followed him with a slightly smug expression on her face and sat down on the opposite side of his desk while Coulson swallowed two aspirins with a gulp of water and then pulled a file from his drawer.

“Ward was shot in his cell this morning”, he began and was slightly impressed that her only reaction to this information was a slight lift of her left eyebrow. “He’s still in surgery at the moment and the doctors don’t know yet if he’ll make it. His assailant was another Hydra sleeper lying low in administration.”

May’s eyes were as cold as they were before, but her lips twitched slightly when she said, “Didn’t know Hydra has a sense of irony.”

Even Coulson, who spent his fair share of hours cursing Ward for his betrayal, could not shake the beginnings of a shudder at May’s words. Of course the team was angry and the three female agents on this plane seemed to have some sort of competition going on who hated Ward the most. The men were a bit more relaxed about it. Coulson himself had found his sentiments turning the day Fitz woke up, about three weeks ago. Somehow knowing that the young scientist would survive and – with a bit of luck – make a complete recovery had turned Coulson’s disgust of Ward into something like curiosity for his case. That was why he had started studying Ward’s file that was right now lying in front of him and he had also asked a skilled hacker – not Skye – to try and dig up some of the deleted parts. And he could not deny that he felt his compassion stir a tiny little bit after having read everything there was to read on his former specialist.

Instead of calling May out on her callousness, he just reached for the memory stick in the pocket of his coat, plugged it into the laptop on his desk and turned the screen towards her.

“This is the recording of the camera in Ward’s cell”, Coulson explained and then pressed play. He knew what the tape contained, he had watched it several times already on his way back. First the Hydra agent coming into the cell, pulling out the pistol and aiming it at Ward with a shaky hand, then Ward getting up slowly from his cot.

“What have you told them about Hydra?”, the perpetrator asked in a quivering voice over the audio and although Coulson could not see the feed right now, he knew that the Hydra agent aimed in this moment right at Ward’s head. For a long moment all that could be heard was the harsh breathing of the would-be-executioner. Nothing from Ward. He just stood there like a statue, hardly blinking.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me right now!”, the sleeper agent shouted nervously and Coulson remembered as clearly as if he could see the tape himself that he took a step closer to his victim. This was the moment Coulson started to scrutinize May for any signs of a reaction. She watched the feed with a detached calmness but he was rather sure he saw her draw in her breath a bit more forcefully as soon as the first shot rang out. Not long after that, the second shot. Ward falling to the ground. The Hydra agent could not bring himself to shoot a third time, probably taking the blood gushing from Ward’s body as a sign that his mission was accomplished. Then the guards rushed in. The would-be-executioner was led away, some of the guards calling for help und pressing down on Ward’s wounds. Then the feed ended.

Coulson closed the laptop with a snap and let the silence in the office stretch. It was a long moment before May finally started talking, “Ward never told us anything about Hydra. I know you did more than just ask nicely, but he still remained silent. And he could have easily disarmed his aggressor, it’s the basics that are taught even before reaching Level 1.” It took another minute until May asked him, “Why didn’t he defend himself?”

A small sad smile crept on Coulson’s lips while he shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Your guess is as good as mine, Melinda. It looks like Ward didn’t want to.”

May narrowed her eyes at him as if all of this mess had been his own fault.

“You’re implying that he’s suicidal?”, she questioned harshly. “Don’t tell me you are thinking about blaming it all on some psychological issues! It’s just another ruse and another game he’s playing.” When Coulson lifted his hands in a placating gesture, May continued, unfazed, “Damn it, Phil, I know you and I know that sentimental look in your eyes! You love to give people second chances but we’re not in the same position as we’ve been a few months ago. We need every help we can get for ourselves!”

“This is you talking, not me”, he replied and held up his hands in defense. “I never suggested any of these things. You asked me what was up, I told you.”

“But you’re also not claiming that my assumptions are wrong and I just know you’re thinking about exactly the things I just said”, May answered with an aggravated sigh that made Coulson bite his lips to keep the fond smile off his face. The next thought, however, brought him back to seriousness.

“What I’m thinking is that maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn’t done everything it could have done when it comes to Ward”, he finally admitted and continued quickly when May opened her mouth to object. “I’m not saying he’s forgiven for his crimes, because he isn’t. But if the agency had seen in him more a human being than just a tool, maybe all of this could’ve been prevented.”

“Garrett had him much longer than we thought and he has used him as a tool all the time”, May challenged. “And Ward didn’t seem to complain.”

“Yes, Garrett has used him, but he at least took the time to make Ward think he cared”, Coulson replied forcefully. “That’s more than S.H.I.E.L.D. did.”

“No, Phil, that’s less than S.H.I.E.L.D. did”, she objected, now getting loud herself. “At least S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t lie to him.”

“Oh, S.H.I.E.L.D. lied to him all the time”, he countered. “You already forgot his and Fitz’ mission to South Ossetia? S.H.I.E.L.D. would have given them up like that.”

“It doesn’t matter!”, May finally exploded. “He’s a traitor and he deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his live! I get that he had a bad childhood, but so have we! Look at Skye, growing up in an orphanage, or at Fitz, never getting to know his dad. Hell, even look at yourself or me! None of us has had it easy, but we’re still standing on the good side!”

“Are we?”, Coulson asked back, unruffled by her outburst. “Because I had him tortured in the first few weeks. I’m not sure the good side reverts to torture when they’re...”

The ringing of his phone interrupted him and he just needed one look to confirm it came from the hospital. One moment he played with the thought of sending May out of his office, but then decided it did not matter anymore.

“Coulson”, he answered the phone.

“Your patient has made it out of surgery alive”, Barton’s voice informed him neutrally and without any greeting. “The doctors say they got the bleeding under control and that he’s stable. Can I now get out of here? I hate hospitals.”

“No, not yet”, Coulson replied, feeling relief flood through him. “Stay with him and don’t leave his side. I’ll send someone to relieve you tomorrow morning, but he better stay alive until then. When they can get to him in prison, they can easily get to him in the hospital.”

“Okay”, Barton replied with a sigh of annoyance. “You’re the boss.” Then he hang up.

Coulson turned to May with a small smile.

“He’s alive.”

“I gathered as much”, she replied with a roll of her eyes before leaving his office.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

When Ward slowly came to, the first thing he noticed was the pounding pain in his left side and the nausea that had him reeling. Even in his state of confusion he recognized it as the after effect of surgery and anesthesia. Yeah, he had been in this situation before, more times than he could count. Opening his eyes was a struggle since his eyelids felt leaden and fell shut again every time he managed to pry them open. He tried to lift his right hand to rub the tiredness and gritty itch from his eyes, but his arm would not move from its position. Everything was blurry and he struggled to focus on his arm when he noticed a dark-clad figure shifting at his bedside. Squinting and blinking at it, he tried to make out who it was.

Skye? Coulson? Had one of their missions gone wrong? Did the team get him out in the last minute? God, if only the pain beating rhythmically against his side would abate for a minute, he was sure he would be able to remember what had happened. As it was, the throbbing only made his nausea worse and he could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“You awake?”, the blurry figure asked in a male voice that was faintly familiar. But definitely not Skye. And not Coulson either. “I know it’s almost impossible, but I’m sure you turned even paler in the last minute.”

When Ward did not answer (well, if you do not count the almost inaudible groan that passed his lips), his bedside guardian got up and pressed a button right above Ward’s head. The man had to lean in for that and Ward caught a short, clear view of the other’s face. Clint Barton? What the hell was Clint Barton doing here? It was either the meds or his injuries playing tricks on his mind, it had to be.

The thought was driven from his mind when a whole armada of nurses and doctors swarmed in, who prodded every part of his body and pricked him with needles. As uncomfortable as it was, he really started feeling better by the time they were leaving. Not just slightly better but an amazingly good deal better. Morphine-high better. He could feel the drug course through his veins and a cozy tiredness settle in his limbs.

“Good thing S.H.I.E.L.D. treats its traitors no different than their own agents, isn’t it?”, Barton spoke again, sarcastically. “I don’t think you’d get the same treatment from Hydra right now. More like a bullet between the eyes, if they’d feel merciful.”

The recollection of the past few months fell into Ward’s mind like the fall of a hammer. His gaze wandered back to his right arm where he was hand-cuffed to the bed railing. This explained why he was unable to move his hand earlier. He also suddenly remembered the attack in his cell and the feeling of coldness crawling into his bones at the same time as his blood rushed out of him. Still, it had been rather peaceful and quite fitting, he thought. A shitty end to a miserable life. But of course S.H.I.E.L.D. had to ruin even that for him.

“Seriously, I don’t get you, Ward”, Barton continued and moved his chair a bit closer to his bedside. “You refuse to give us even a scrap of information and you were never any use to us. But even now, after everything you’ve done, S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t let you down, even though you don’t deserve it. We’re still trying to help you, can’t you see that?”

Maybe it was just the morphine in his system, but Ward had a hard time to bite back a scoff. It had not been S.H.I.E.L.D. that pulled his ass out of a desperate situation when he had needed it the most. It had not been S.H.I.E.L.D. that nursed him back to health when he took a bullet to the stomach in his first year as a specialist and could not keep anything down for weeks. Neither had it been S.H.I.E.L.D. that took him home after a bad day and an even worse drinking spree, so he would not pass out on the icy pavement and freeze to death. It had all been John Garrett.

“Nothing to say, have you?”, Barton asked again, almost disgustedly.

After a long moment, Ward answered quietly, in a voice that was both weak and rough, “What... what do you want me to say? ‘Thanks, S.H.I.E.L.D., for the waterboarding’?”

Barton scoffed at that, then got up to pace the small room.

“Good one, really”, he said, giving him a tight smile, while his eyes flashed dangerously. “I’ve heard that you have no sense of humor, but maybe that was part of your cover as well. How dare you make any snide comments about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s treatment of you after knowing what Hydra does to our people? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t used any truth-enforcing measures yourself.”

“Only for S.H.I.E.L.D.”, Ward replied tiredly. He could feel his eyelids grow heavy and he knew he would be asleep in another minute or two. Good, at least this way this conversation would be over soon. On the other hand, it looked like he had succeeded in riling up Barton.

“You piece of shit should be grateful to have Coulson’s protection, because he’s the only reason my arrows aren’t right now decorating your ass. I know a thing or two about second chances but you sure as hell don’t deserve one! You can’t even see that you messed up, big time”, Barton spat and got right into his face.

The need to sleep was so strong now that Ward was unable to do more than blink tiredly and force his lips into a small smirk. As if an angry Barton could scare him. They should know by now that he was long past the point of being scared by anything they threw his way.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

Ward drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours without grasping his surroundings with the same clarity he had when he first woke up. The painkillers took him on a ride of their own, both dampening the agony of his body and making him wake from strange dreams with a start. Nurses and doctors came and went without any of his saying. From a few snippets of conversation he gathered that one of the bullets had ruptured his spleen and that they had to remove it so he would not bleed to death. Some kind of artery was damaged as well, but he was too out of it to make complete sense of what the doctors were saying.

What he could not shake off was the awareness of Barton’s presence. Though the agent remained silent the whole time, Ward could feel the other’s eyes following his every small movement. Like a hawk. Ha, he could feel his lips curling at his own pun and blamed the morphine for it. That was one of the reasons why he usually refused stronger pain meds, they tended to make him loopy. But he was definitely past the point of caring about his reputation.

He was woken from a light sleep by the opening of the door. Since he knew that Barton was still with him, he gathered that it was one of the nurses again and was already halfway back to dreamland, when a new voice roused him a bit more.

“Is he sleeping?”, the newly arrived asked and Ward could clearly recognize the voice as Trip’s, though he kept his eyes closed in a pretense of sleep.

“Yeah, he’s been sleeping like a baby for the last few hours”, Barton answered. “And good thing, too, because I’m really not in the mood to put up with his crap again.” Then after a moment he added grouchily, “Coulson promised to send someone to relieve my by seven, it’s past nine now. Where the hell have you been?”

“Look, man, I’m here now. I couldn’t make it any sooner”, Trip replied, sounding defensive.

“Well, then tell Coulson he owes _me_ a favor now”, Barton answered coolly and since Ward could hear the door open and close again after a short moment, he guessed that the agent had left the room.

“I know he’s Hawkeye and all that shit, but he’s really full of himself”, Trip commented quietly and Ward could almost picture the other man shaking his head to himself. Then after a moment, “You’re not really asleep, are you?”

Ward knew better than to respond to that and kept his eyes shut and his breathing even. Riling up Barton was one thing, but talking to someone who had been working with Coulson’s team for the last few months was another.

“Alright, then I’ll do all the talking and you’ll just have to listen”, Trip continued cheerfully. “That beard really suits you, man, I wouldn’t have thought that you could pull it off, but it looks alright. Makes you look more the part of the villain than clean-shaven. Bit of a bad boy look.”

For a tiny moment, Ward felt the urge to roll his eyes, just as he had done so many times at one of Fitzsimmons’ or Skye’s antics. It pulled him back to another life that seemed light years away from his existence right now. If he concentrated very hard, he could almost make himself believe that any moment now, Fitz would walk in and slap him on the shoulder. Or Skye would challenge him for another game of battleship. He was surprised how much it hurt, to know that something like that would never happen again. Skye... no, he knew he shouldn’t go there, hadn’t allowed himself to even think about her for a long time...

The next moment he was already cursing himself and the morphine for his sentimentality. It was exactly weaknesses like that that got him into this mess in the first place. None of this would have happened if he had kept his head in the game. John would still be alive, too.

“They never talk about you back on the Bus, you know”, the agent went on and by the squeaking of the chair Ward could tell that the other was getting comfortable. “They are really pissed at you. Maybe Coulson not as much as the others. But Coulson read your file and some other things about you, too. He let me read them as well, because I wanted to know more about how Garrett worked.”

Ward was unsure what to do with this piece of information. He was definitely uncomfortable with someone else prying into parts of his life that he had painstakingly tried to shut away from himself and the rest of the world.

“I don’t think you’re all bad”, Trip said after a short pause. “If you’d only see how twisted Garrett was and how you were just a pawn in his game, I think you could still do some good. But this would mean that you’d need to start talking, man. How can you still protect the ones that tried to kill you?”

Slowly but surely, Ward got fed up with this bullshit. Did Coulson really think that he could just send his newest pet project-gone-psychologist and he would spill the beans? He should not be surprised that S.H.I.E.L.D. tried to get to him when he was weakened and drugged, but this was low, even for them.

“Just shut up, Trip”, he murmured without opening his eyes and instantly realized that it had been a mistake to speak at all. They were trying to get a reaction out of him, any reaction, and he had given them exactly what they wanted. Stupid. It had been John who had told him to forego any strong painkillers and it was not just because they made Ward loopy. They made him stupid and _weak_ , too.

“I just knew you were awake”, Trip replied, almost gleefully. “Look, I’ll be sitting on _my_ ass for the next twenty-four hours to save _your_ ass, so we can as well talk a bit. Get to know each other better and stuff.”

“Not interested”, Ward answered hoarsely and, despite his better judgment, finally opened his eyes to look at Trip. “Neither in getting to know you nor being saved by you.”

“That’s a pity”, the agent said, almost amicably, but with an underlying steeliness to his voice. “Since we’re almost related, with Garrett being kind of our step daddy and all that. Well, he was always more your step daddy than mine, I guess.”

“You can blabber on all you want”, Ward replied laboriously, the short spurt of anger already leaving him exhausted. “But tell Coulson I won’t talk.”

“He’ll be disappointed to hear it”, Trip said with a shake of his head. “I don’t think he’s given up on you completely. Maybe if you’d just...”

Ward had already closed his eyes again and began to tune out the agent’s voice. It was not long before sleep and oblivion took him again.

 

-tbc-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just before we move on to chapter 2, just let me tell you that this story will probably be a rather short one, maybe 4 or 5 chapters long. Hope you enjoy!

“Could you get me Trip and stay with Ward for a moment?”, Coulson asked May when they arrived in front of the hospital room. “If possible without killing Ward in the process.”

She just rolled her eyes at him and quietly slipped into the room, while Coulson shot a look up and down the hall. It was very early, almost night still, and apart from some nurses and the two policemen, who had stood watch until he had sent them away, the floor seemed deserted. Good, this would make their job a lot easier.

The door opened and Trip walked out with a quiet “Sir”.

“Trip, how’s he doing?”, Coulson asked him.

“The same as before”, the younger agent replied and rubbed the back of his head. “He’s still refusing to talk. Damn it, he’s stubborn as a mule and dead set on going down with Garrett. But, it was worth a try, sir. If he doesn’t talk now, he probably never will.”

“No”, Coulson said, shaking his head gently. “I meant how he’s doing... physically. Is he in pain?”

“No... no”, Trip answered slowly, drawing his brows together and giving him a slightly confused glance. “He’s fine. The doctors keep him on the good drugs. That bastard is hard to kill, like a cockroach.”

Something in Coulson’s chest, maybe a muscle or whatever, gave an unpleasant twinge at that. He tried to catch Trip’s gaze, then requested quietly, “Please, don’t use such terms. It makes me feel like a mob boss, not like the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

The younger agent looked slightly offended, but finally shrugged his shoulders.

“As you wish, sir.”

An uncomfortable silence followed their exchange until Coulson looked at his watch and declared, “It’s time to move.”

“So, what’s the plan exactly?”, Trip questioned.

“Get Ward out without getting caught doing it”, Coulson replied and watched with a small smile as Trip’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

“Seriously?”, the younger agent asked incredulously. “You want to abduct Ward?”

“Yes”, Coulson answered with a nod. “S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t even nearly back to its old strength, we can’t just get him out like we used to do with prisoners before. I may have an agent or two who watched his steps and interrogated him, but Ward is still an inmate of a federal prison.”

“What are you going to do with him when you got him out?”, Trip continued, exasperation clearly shining through. “Chaining him to the doghouse on your private lawn?”

Again, Coulson felt uncomfortable with the terminology Trip used, but he did not mention it again, but instead continued to explain, “No, he’ll be staying with us on the Bus until he’s sufficiently recovered. He’s not safe anywhere else.”

“Oh man”, the younger agent lamented. “Skye and Simmons will be thrilled. Does May know?”

“Yes, and she is professional enough to accept what needs to be done”, Coulson replied and added in his mind, _‘after we had a huge argument and I succeeded in blackmailing her into this’_.

He shot Trip another look, then entered the hospital room. It was rather dim in there, but he could still see Ward laying in the bed, the darkness of the scruff around his chin highlighting the paleness of his skin. He seemed to have lost weight since the last time Coulson saw him. His cheek bones stood out even more prominently above the hollowness of his cheeks and his closed eyes seemed to have sunk deeply into his skull.

“Is everything prepared?”, Coulson asked May quietly.

“Yes”, she answered shortly. “He’s out cold and he’ll stay that way for the next two hours, thanks to the sedative I gave him.”

“So, how are we going to do this?”, Trip asked and looked to the door. “It’s not like we can just stuff Ward into a bag and then walk out of here like we do with our alien artefacts.”

Coulson smiled a little then told his specialist the whole plan. When he had finished, Trip looked more than slightly skeptical.

“I don’t know...”, he began hesitantly. “They have pretty tough rules about prisoners leaving their rooms.”

“Good thing they think we’re FBI then”, Coulson replied lightly. “Skye made sure our cover is perfect. They don’t suspect a thing and I sent the officers away earlier on.”

“Yes, but you realize that we can pull off something like that only once?”, Trip questioned. “The doctors and nurses will be able to describe us and it won’t be long until they’ll have us identified as S.H.I.E.L.D. Maybe we’ll even end up on a wanted list. We won’t be able to use this cover again after today.”

“It’s worth it”, Coulson decided, finality and annoyance creeping into his voice. “Are you done questioning me?”

Trip just nodded, then hopped onto the bed and pressed a towel remotely over the area of Ward’s wound, saying, “The game can begin.”

This was the cue for Coulson and May to start pushing Ward’s bed out of the room, letting their movements seem slightly frantic. As soon as they were out of the door, a young nurse came running to them.

“What happened?”, she asked promptly.

“One of the stitches must have opened”, Coulson replied quickly, as if he would force himself to remain calm. “He’s bleeding heavily. We’re bringing him to the OR right now.”

The nurse let her gaze roam nervously from Ward’s still form to the red sheet of paper on his hospital room door that indicated his status as a criminal under arrest.

“There’s a protocol for patients like him”, she began uneasily. “I’ll call a doctor and we’ll see that we can get an officer up to OR, then we’ll...”

“We don’t have time for this!”, Coulson exclaimed forcefully and almost felt sorry for the way the nurse flinched at that. “My fellow FBI agent here is a trained medic and I believe him when he says that this inmate will be dead by the time your doctor is here.”

“I’m not sure...”, the young woman stuttered and Coulson could see May reaching inconspicuously for the ICER she kept inside her jacket. They were running out of time and the hall could be swarming with doctors and security personnel any second now. Using their ICERs would only serve as a last resort, because this would give them away as S.H.I.E.L.D. as clearly as if they had the eagle logo tattooed onto their foreheads. They also wanted to improve, not worsen their present image and shooting young nurses definitely would not earn them any cookie points.

“Lady!”, Trip now butted in. “I can feel his _arteria splenica_ pulsing under my fingers and if you don’t move now, we’ll have a dead man on our hands. Go get a doctor, we’ll bring the prisoner up to the OR!”

The nurse finally nodded and sprinted off, while May and Coulson quickly rolled the bed down the hall towards the elevator. Coulson pushed the button, then pushed it again when he saw two security guards turning around the corner in their direction.

“Come on, come on”, he muttered to the elevator while he saw May reaching a second time for her hidden ICER. Just then, the door opened with a ping, and they were inside in the blink of an eye. They heard the guards shout something in their direction, but the door closed before the guards reached it and Coulson let out a sigh of relief. Instead of up to the OR, they went down to the underground parking lot. Trip climbed down from the bed and all three of them pushed the bed towards a dark van waiting for them close to the elevator. They lifted Ward with all his IVs onto a gurney that was prepared exactly for this reason and just a few seconds later, May was pulling the van out of the parking lot onto the street.

“Alright”, Trip commented from his place beside Ward’s gurney in the back of the van. “We got him out. I’ve been asked so many times by fellow specialists to help them break out of hospital because they were going stir-crazy, but I now know that it’s harder than it sounds.”

Coulson, who sat beside May on the passenger seat, lifted one corner of his mouth at that.

“Still”, the specialist continued with a mock-serious face. “The real fight will start when we’re back at the Bus.”

“Amen to that”, May commented drily and shot Coulson a look.

A sigh made it past Coulson’s lips. Yeah, he had an inkling that some members of his team would be getting loud at him. Very loud.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

The first thing Ward noticed when he woke up from his deep sleep was that he could feel the hard surface he was lying on vibrating slightly. Something was moving. Was he in a car? He was definitely not in the hospital anymore and it took all of his will power to stay still and keep his eyes closed. Whoever had him might just wait for him to wake up so they could interrogate him some more. Or do worse things to him. Ward was determined to keep himself still until the perfect moment arrived to spring up and use the advantage of surprise.

But who had him? His memories were rather foggy and he could not remember any attack in the hospital. Just Trip talking to him, then a long blank, now him waking up in what he was pretty sure was a moving car. Or van. They must have drugged him. Was he bound, too? His whole body was numb, so it was hard to tell.

No one was talking, but Ward thought he could hear someone breathing next to him. Who were they? Hydra? Government? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Probably S.H.I.E.L.D. They had kept watch from the minute he woke up in the hospital, it doubtlessly was their doing. It would not take a genius to deduce that they wanted to take matters in their own hands, because interrogation had been unsuccessful so far. He would need to try and get out of here as soon as he could. For all he knew, Coulson had sent some of his best to make sure he talked, maybe even Barton again, together with Romanoff.

The silence stretched and his concentration slipped slowly. Without Ward realizing, the movements of the van and the residual effects of the sedative lulled him back to sleep. The van came to a sudden stop and it snapped him back to awareness.

“I think he’s coming around”, Trip’s voice commented and Ward cursed himself. He must have twitched or something and had now given away his advantage.

“Bind him”, a mild voice ordered that Ward had not heard in three months. Coulson? If Coulson came to get him in person, they must really be getting desperate. He could feel the cuffs closing around both his wrists and mourned the lost opportunity for just a moment. Then again, if he was honest to himself, there had never been a real chance to escape from both Coulson and Trip. Not in his condition. He decided to just keep pretending to sleep and gather information that might be useful later.

“We could give him some more of the sedative”, a female voice suggested coldly and Ward felt his fists tightening for just a second. So May was there, too. Hell, did they plan a team reunion? Where were they bringing him?

“Not a good idea”, Trip answered. “Blood pressure and pulse are low as it is.”

Yeah, as if they cared. Ward knew that the only reason he was still alive was that they desperately wanted the intel they thought he had. If he ever talked, which he would not, someone would be very disappointed to realize that John had not actually shared as much with him as they thought. Not that Ward could blame his former mentor, finding himself in the clutches of people who wanted exactly that kind of information. Still, he was determined not to give S.H.I.E.L.D. a scrap of information. Maybe he was trying to prove to John that he would have been worthy to earn full disclosure. Maybe it was a question of loyalty.

The doors of the van opened and the gurney he was lying on was pushed out. Different smells were in the air (maybe even trees?) and he could feel the warmth of sunrays on his face. He had not felt it on his skin for three months. It felt good, really good.

Just a minute or two later Ward heard the mechanical whirr of a ramp lowering – a sound he would recognize anywhere. No way! Not the Bus, please, they couldn’t bring him back on the Bus... He would have opened his eyes, maybe even started to struggle, if not a familiar voice froze every of his movements.

“Hey D.C.!”, Skye chirped happily. “Where have you been? You promised to tell us... WHAT. THE. HELL???”

“I tried to warn you, sir”, Trip muttered under his breath.

“Is everything alright?”, a British voice asked worriedly, then suddenly turned into a stutter. “Oh dear God...”

“What is _he_ doing here?”, Skye asked, starting quietly but quickly turning loud. Of course she would not even use his name, Ward thought with a hint of bitterness. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, I haven’t, Skye”, Coulson started patiently. “He will be staying with us for the next few weeks. He won’t be safe anywhere else and I think we might still need him.”

“Yeah, we might need him since we don’t have enough people on our heels trying to kill us”, Skye replied sarcastically and very much on edge. “You’re right, this team hasn’t been the same since he left us and now we’re short a traitor and a mass murderer. So grateful you invited him along, Coulson.”

“That’s enough, Skye”, May interfered, though more softly than Ward ever remembered hearing her. “Ward might be our enemy, but he’s still valuable because of the information he holds. We’ll watch him closely and he won’t be any danger to you. You won’t be forced to go anywhere near him.”

“What about me?”, Simmons asked quietly, voice shaking with emotion. “I never refused to patch you up though I am not a doctor. Well, not a medical doctor, anyway. Sir, I beg you not to make me come near him or touch him, please.”

“I won’t make you, Simmons, promise”, Coulson replied gently. “Trip will see to it that he survives the next few days.”

Ward could not help but notice that no one asked what had happened to him, though he was pretty sure they had no prior information of the assassination attempt on him. There was also no way to overhear the disgust and hatred in both Skye’s and Simmons’ voice. For a short moment, Ward wished he was truly unconscious and not just pretending to be asleep. As soon as the thought registered, another small voice in his head told him to stop being naive. Of course his former team members were pissed off, why had he even dared to hope it would be different? And why was the thought of them hating him even troubling him? He should be indifferent, unfeeling. How many _fucking_ times had John preached to him the same things over and over again?

“So”, Skye started again, the fire still audible in her voice. “He’ll just be staying with us? Eating our food, wasting our time and dwindling stash of meds?”

“Hydra tried to kill him”, Coulson replied quietly. “S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t strong enough to protect him right now, only this team is.”

“His own buddies did this?”, Skye asked with cold amusement in her voice. It reminded Ward of May. No wonder, they probably trained together. The captivating girl he knew and... trained, his rookie, she probably did not exist anymore. Or maybe she still existed, just not for him anymore.

“Yes”, Coulson answered.

“I thought they had better aim than that”, she replied icily. This seemed to be the end of this conversation, because someone started to push the gurney up the ramp and into the plane.

Ward felt sick. Maybe it was just the sedative and the other drugs wearing off. His body was waking up, too, leaving the comfortable numbness behind, and his wounds were starting to throb. He gave up any pretense of sleep and opened his eyes to look at his all too familiar surroundings. They were wheeling him into a med pod. It was looking exactly like the one they had had before. The one he had... disposed of. Ward had to swallow down his nausea. Maybe Coulson did this on purpose.

The director realized that he was awake and offered him a rather friendly nod.

“Hello Ward. Good to see you awake. It would be best for all of us to make an effort in getting along for the remainder of your stay, alright?”

Ward did not reply and moved his gaze away from his former team leader to the ceiling. Trip and Coulson seemed unfazed by his lack of answer and moved him from the gurney onto the bed where they cuffed his right hand to the bed railing. Ward put up no resistance. He was too busy pressing his mouth shut, both to prevent any sound from passing his lips from the pain of being lifted and to keep his guts in place. The nausea had gotten worse, he felt light-headed and shaky.

“I’m gonna get his meds from the van”, Trip announced, then left Ward alone with Coulson in the med pod.

Ward just wished the director would leave, too, but the other man stayed exactly where he was, on a chair beside his bed. Cold sweat broke out on Ward’s forehead and he tried swallowing the bile he felt rising in his throat. God, not in Coulson’s presence, he could not show any weakness in front of Coulson...

“Are you alright?”, the director asked worriedly. “Do you need anything?”

It was a losing fight and he could only manage to choke out “Bowl”, before his stomach turned and he already started retching. An iron fist seemed to have his stomach in a vice-like grip and just squeezed. Not that there was anything in his stomach, but his body did not seem to get that. Somehow, Coulson was there with a bowl and helped him turn on his side, though the awkward position he was forced into because of his chained wrist made his wound hurt fiercely. The pain made the nausea worse and the dry heaving increased the agony in his side. Stupid vicious circle.

“Trip will be back with the meds soon”, Coulson soothed from beside him, while Ward was trembling with pain and nausea. “It’ll be better in a minute, just breathe.”

Apart from the misery of his body, Ward was assaulted by shame at his weakness and memories that came with it. He could clearly remember the night he came back from his first official S.H.I.E.L.D. mission, which had resulted in him killing for the first time. Trying to deal with it on his own, he had soon found himself in a bar and just a few hours later knocking on John’s door, swaying where he stood. His mentor had let him in rather good-naturedly, though Ward spent the better part of the night with his head hanging over John’s toilet, while the older man had sat with a glass of scotch on the edge of the bath tub and just watched him, offering some quips along the way. Something like ‘We’ll work on you holding your liquor, boy’ and ‘You should really learn to keep your guts in place.’ If John saw him now, needing help from Coulson even to hold himself up...

A new wave of nausea crashed over him that had him fight for breath and drove every other thought from his mind. Though he thought he was used to pain and misery, this was a whole new level of agony coming from his side that made him heave again and again. He could deal with pain, had always been good at it (well, not _always_ ), but this merciless throbbing combined with the helplessness of his situation was too much. He could handle getting injured and still finish a mission, as long as he could stay active and _do_ something, or at least hide somewhere dark to lick his wounds in solitude. But this here, literally chained to the bed, loosing control over his body because of the waves of nausea crashing down on him, with _Coulson_ trying to comfort him... it all made him wish for a gun to finish his assailant’s job himself.

“Look, Trip is back”, Coulson continued in the same gentle voice he had used before. “You’ll be feeling better in a moment.”

“You’re not looking good, man”, Trip said and leaned over him with a syringe. Ward thought he could hear a tinge of concern in the other’s voice, but he had other problems he had to focus on. For example getting back control over his stomach. He felt a short prick in his arm and only a few seconds later, he could feel the nausea and pain ease up. Exhaustion soon followed and his head grew so heavy he could not keep it up by himself anymore. It came to rest on something warm and soft. Was it Coulson’s shoulder? Didn’t matter.

“Two or three more days in hospital would have done him some good”, Trip commented softly and Ward felt that they laid him down to lie more comfortably. “The sedative, the moving around and the stress that comes with all of it has all been a bit too much. He needs some more rest.”

“He’ll get all the rest and quiet he needs to recover”, Coulson answered decidedly.

Just before he drifted off, Ward wondered if they maybe really cared. But why the hell would they do that?

 

-tbc-


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner on the Bus that evening was spent in an icy silence. The only sound that could be heard was the occasional clatter of knives on almost empty plates.

Coulson knew the argument was not over yet and quite some emotions were simmering just below the surface. Trip was staying with Ward during dinner, so Coulson was left to deal with the three women on his plane all alone. Skye was attacking her steak so viciously with her fork as if it was to blame for all that went wrong in the last few months. Simmons was just pushing her food around, only occasionally forcing herself to eat a bite. Every few seconds, her gaze would dart to the door as if she expected someone to break in and start shooting at them. And May was letting him know that she was still angry by completely ignoring him. Great, Coulson thought with a mental sigh, they looked like a textbook example of a dysfunctional family.

“Does anyone want dessert?”, he asked into the round, hoping to lighten the mood somewhat. “Trip bought some ice cream today.”

His offer was met with even more icy silence and a glare from Skye.

“No one?”, Coulson asked again. “You know my doctor won’t be happy with me at my next annual check-up if I have to eat it all alone.”

His attempt at lightness fell completely flat. Maybe it was also because they were all reminded that something like annual physical check-ups did not exist anymore, partly thanks to the man presently occupying their med pod.

“Director Coulson?”, Simmons asked hesitantly. “It might be rather bold to ask, but... I wondered... Is there another reason for getting Ward on this plane? Something we might not know of?”

Coulson frowned at that, but at the same time, he was glad that at least someone started talking about the elephant in the room.

“I’m not sure I can follow you, Simmons”, he answered but motioned with his hand for her to elaborate.

“What I want to know... Is getting Ward back on the Bus supposed to finally make him talk?”, the scientist continued softly. Skye stopped eating at that and looked to Coulson with new found interest in her eyes.

He swallowed the last bite of his dinner, then pushed the plate away from him before answering slowly, “No, it’s not. We try to keep him safe until he’s recovered, that’s all.” He could almost feel the disappointment of both Simmons and Skye wash over him, so decided to lay out the truth as plainly as possible. “If Ward doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. S.H.I.E.L.D. tried... no, that’s not true... _I_ tried every torture technique S.H.I.E.L.D. ever applied to make him talk. Waterboarding, electric shocks, sleep deprivation, noise exposure and other things. I also had a trained psychologist try and manipulate him into giving up his secrets. Nothing. Not even a hint of success.”

The room had gone completely silent. May looked as calm and collected as ever, but Simmons and Skye were staring at him in shock. For one moment, Coulson could not help but feel slightly annoyed at their open disbelief. Of course he had not paraded these facts in front of them, but what had they expected? They were basking in their hatred of Ward but had never even stopped to think about what Coulson had ordered to be done to their former team member in the mean time. Maybe it was time to open their eyes.

“And you know what?”, he continued and leaned back in his chair. “I’m done with it. Not just when it comes to Ward, but with torture in general. The whole downfall of S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe it’s an opportunity, too. We can try new ways now and I think we need to show the world that we’re different from Hydra. The thing is, when I tried to come up with clear differences, it was rather hard to name them.”

“How about we try not to kill our team members?”, Skye asked softly, eyes brimming with emotion.

“Well, I thought about that long and hard”, Coulson replied patiently. “Ward didn’t try to kill us. He could have, easily, but he always chose other measures. And don’t tell me he tried to kill Fitz and Simmons, because you know as well as I that with his level of proficiency, he could’ve found a way to kill them if he had truly wanted to.”

Skye opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again.

“He could’ve killed May in Providence”, Coulson continued and looked to the agent in question, who was gazing at him thoughtfully. “Instead he let her go, though this proved to be his downfall later. You had no means to verify that May really left the base back then, Skye, he could’ve easily lied to you about her departure and just hid her body somewhere. It would’ve been the safest way to go for him. He also could’ve held one or two of us hostage to force you to decript the drive, he knew you wouldn’t let anyone of this team die for the information on the drive. He chose not to do it this way.”

Again, the silence was heavy, before Skye asked almost tonelessly, “So what do you want to say? It was all a big misunderstanding and Ward’s actually a good guy?”

“No”, Coulson replied, shaking his head. “He’s a criminal and a traitor, there’s no way around it. All I want to say is that we – this team – made him hesitate. Maybe for the first time since Garrett got him out of that hell that was his childhood, he had qualms about what to do. I think that Garrett had and still has a very firm grip on him, but I just know that Ward was struggling with himself in the last few days and weeks on this team. And I think he’s still struggling.”

“So you want to help him decide this struggle?”, May asked slowly, her eyebrows raised, while Skye still looked very skeptical.

“Maybe”, he admitted with a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh Phil”, May commented in a tone so filled with pity it was almost condescending.

“Look” he started again. “I don’t have any plans when it comes to Ward. I want that he’s treated in the best way we can while he stays here. I don’t want him to suffer and I want you all to treat him respectfully. I’ll also try and be completely honest with him, no manipulation, no hidden agenda. I believe that this organization owes it to itself to treat prisoners as human beings, especially under my lead. Everything else will be up to Ward. Whatever he chooses to do, helping us or keeping his silence, we won’t apply force anymore, so this needs to come from his own volition. Because I think it’s about time he started making his own decisions.” After some thinking, he added softly, “Maybe this way he’ll even start defending himself next time he’s shot at.”

Coulson knew he was doing it again, influencing people (manipulation was such an ugly word), but he could not resist to strew this last piece of information. It was fascinating to see the change in Skye’s face and he could almost pinpoint the moment the first threads of compassion entered her heart. These big brown eyes were suddenly looking a tad brighter than just a second ago. Coulson knew that her relationship with Ward had been complicated and that there had been more emotions involved than in a typical relationship between an SO and his rookie. Ward’s betrayal had shaken her very foundations, and she was still struggling with the fallout of his betrayal. Her flaunted anger at their former team member just barely covered the wound of hurt feelings and her rattled trust in people close to her.

“He... he let his assailant shoot him?”, Skye asked, carefully trying for a detached tone and failing miserably. She still had a lot to learn from May.

“Yeah”, Coulson answered slowly.

“Why?”, Simmons asked, joining their exchange hesitantly, her eyes big with confusion.

He told them what had happened. And suddenly he knew one big difference between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra: Despite Ward betraying them all and this team vowing never to forgive him, they still cared.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

When Ward woke up, he was alone in the med pod. Blinking away the cobwebs and trying to get atop the tenacious bleariness in his mind, he took a moment to look around. Trip, who had been with him the last few times he woke up, was nowhere to be seen. He immediately spotted the camera with the red light on in one of the corners, so he was not exactly unobserved. His right hand was still cuffed to the bed railing, but his left hand with the IV in it was free. As unobtrusively as possible, he sought for something that could be used as a weapon, just in case. However, when he tried to force himself up a little bit, a tug and then a sharp pain in his left leg made him stop immediately. Looking down, he realized that he was cuffed at his ankle as well and that the same leg was heavily bandaged. Right, he was shot in the leg, too. Almost forgot about that. It would make an escape attempt even harder.

Ward used his free left hand to rub at his eyes. God, he was feeling woozy. That did not make thinking any easier and he desperately needed to think if he wanted to get out of here. In prison, he had not really given much thought to a possible breakout, but here on the Bus, with Coulson present and with... her... He needed to get out of here. And for that, he would need to have his wits about him.

Looking to his left, he saw the IV bag and the morphine drip, but he could tell that they were just out of his very limited reach. His hand, then. He looked to where the IV line went into his body and wondered how he could get it out without anyone noticing. The tube he could use as a sling in case the opportunity presented itself...

In that moment, the door swished open and Coulson walked in. Ward was too well trained to look even remotely caught, though his former boss smiled quite knowingly.

“I wanted to check up on you”, Coulson said and sat down at his bedside. “The last two times I came to see you, you were asleep. Are you feeling better?”

Ward knew the strategy his former boss was applying. Pretending to be nice and caring, making the detainee feel grateful by little acts of kindness, trying to establish some sort of normal human interaction. However, Coulson should know by now that it would not work on him. He had not gone through all the torture sessions to cave at the first kind words he heard. So he remained silent, the most effective tactic to resist interrogation.

“At least you are looking a bit better than this morning”, Coulson went on, unfazed by Ward’s lack of answer. “I know you’re very decided on keeping your mouth shut, but still let me know if you need anything, okay? There’s no need to suffer anymore.”

The damn hypocrite! Ward ground his teeth in order to keep his mouth shut and look as detached as possible, but he was sure he was unable to prevent the glare he sent in the other man’s direction.

“I know what you’re thinking right now”, Coulson continued, eyes kind and honest. “This is rich coming from the guy who tortured me. You’re not the only one who made mistakes. S.H.I.E.L.D. made mistakes, too. I made mistakes, tons of mistakes. But we’re still here and trying to do better. You, on the other hand, you’re not even trying.”

For the first time, Ward averted his eyes, staring at the wall just above Coulson’s head.

“The team misses you, you know”, his former boss said softly. “Not the traitor, the stick-up-your-butt-agent you pretended to be. I caught myself wondering a few times if it was all an act or if you’re really a bit like that. I know you’re good, a brilliant actor, I’ve got to give you that. But folding your socks as meticulously as you used to do after laundry? I’m pretty sure that was all you, because I don’t think anyone could fake such behavior in order to pretend he has a tidy nature when in truth he’s a messy person. The whole team was awed by your neatness. It’s these small things we miss.”

Ward felt his resolve falter slightly. Coulson’s words evoked good memories, even though he had rolled his eyes at the merciless teasing of the team about some of his more tidy habits back then. Had it been an act? Even he did not know anymore. John had told him to be as smooth as possible, never giving any cause for complaints, so he had always guessed this would imply an orderly behavior. Then again, even as a kid he had liked to keep his stuff where it belonged... Ward had to forcefully stop this train of thought. Why was Coulson even talking about the team and what was he getting at? Whatever strategy the other man was applying, Ward was uncomfortable with it, so he had to somehow get him off-course.

“Does Fitz miss me, too?”, Ward finally asked, making his voice sound cold and forcing a smirk on his lips. Maybe this would shut Coulson up. Ward did not even know if Fitz was still alive, last time he had heard about him, the scientist had been in a deep coma with no one knowing if he ever woke up. Ward could not help but note that he had heard everyone’s voice this morning when he was brought aboard, except for Fitz’. If the young scientist had died in the mean time, then Coulson would definitely leave him alone. It was even possible that the “no suffering”-act would be dropped sooner than imagined. Nevertheless, Ward feared the answer to his question more than a few blows, though he tried to push this thought from his mind.

“Yes, he does”, Coulson replied neutrally, mustering Ward intently. “Especially him. He asked about you several times since he woke up three weeks ago. He’s in rehabilitation and will be back with us in a few weeks, if everything is progressing fine. You’ll have some explaining to do, because Fitz has questions. A lot of questions.”

Relief flooded Ward, so strongly he was getting light-headed. The incertitude about Fitz’ fate had haunted him for months now and he had started from an uneasy sleep with Fitz’ desperate face on his mind more times than he could count.

“Is this good news for you?”, the director asked quietly, these clever eyes probing him so intently Ward immediately felt exposed.

“Just another failure on my part, I guess”, Ward answered hoarsely, deciding on ambiguity in his answer because he could not bring himself to form a direct lie when his mind suddenly felt so raw.

His skills seemed to be rusty, because Coulson saw right through him and gave him one of his small smiles.

“Failure to kill him? Or failure to keep him safe?”

Ward did not respond and turned his head away. All he could think about was that he needed to get out of here, quickly. He was desperately off his game, so that he was unable to keep up an even remotely waterproof front. He made rookie mistakes, such as even talking to Coulson! John would weep with shame if he saw him right now, with all his long years of training going down the drain. All Ward needed was to get away from his old team and get his thoughts sorted, because under Coulson’s constant presence and clever little eyes, he slowly became unraveled.

“Let’s just get it over with”, Ward spoke, the irritation getting to him. “Ask your questions, I won’t answer, then we can all call it a day a little earlier, okay?”

“I’m not here to ask questions”, Coulson replied easily and got up. “But if you want to be alone, you could’ve just said so. Well, there’s still the camera, but we can’t change that right now, can we?.For our own security as well as yours.”

The director slowly walked to the door, then stopped and turned around before he pushed the button to open the door.

“Actually, I do have one question for you and I hope you’ll answer it”, he announced seriously.

Finally, Ward thought. Coulson dropping his act came as a relief to him, as pathetic as that might sound. But he could work with the director’s little schemes when they became apparent, it was this playing with hidden cards that creeped him out.

“I wondered”, Coulson continued, “if you could manage some soup? It’s past time you got back to eating.”

The director was giving him an expectant smile. Ward could not help but stare.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

“I don’t get it, Melinda”, Coulson said, looking over to the female agent behind the steering wheel. “Ward works so hard to convince everyone he doesn’t care about this team, though it’s obviously not true.”

“Phil”, May began warningly, shooting a hectic glance into the rear mirror before continuing. “Could you drop your present obsession with Ward just for one moment? Maybe let it rest for another time when we haven’t just narrowly escaped from an exploding building and aren’t being followed by Hydra members intent on killing us?”

True, they were still being followed. Bullets were suddenly fired on their SUV and Coulson kept his head down though the glass was bulletproof.

“Damn, we can’t lead them back to the Bus like that”, May commented, narrowly cutting the next corner. “We got to shake them off before returning to the others. I’ll contact Trip to let him know.”

Coulson just nodded and was condemned to spend the next ten minutes rather uselessly with hanging on to the handle whenever the ride got bumpy while May shook off their pursuers. Finally, she shot another look into the rear mirror and gave a satisfied nod, which he took as a sign to continue speaking.

“He also gives as all these little clues that he wants someone to care. He isn’t half as lifeless as he thinks he is. He wants someone to care so damn much. Some of his actions even remind me of a sulky teenager, for example when he tries to provoke his counterpart to an angry reaction.”

May sighed with exasperation, then replied pointedly, “A very clever, very strong and very deadly teenager. He’s dangerous, Phil, and he might be playing with you right now. He’s a trained black ops specialist and very good at it! Look, I get that you want to stop S.H.I.E.L.D.’s torture practices, but this doesn’t mean you have to think about solving Ward’s issues 24/7.”

“I don’t know”, Coulson conceded quietly. “Somehow it feels like S.H.I.E.L.D.’s and Ward’s fate are connected. We need him. I know I don’t have rational proof for this, but ever since my... dying incident, my intuition has gotten stronger and it’s telling me that we’ll need him.”

May gave him a sidelong glance, then said rather softly, “I know you’ve been experiencing some strange things lately that are connected with the serum they gave you. But you shouldn’t give it the power to question everything.”

“Not everything” he replied and started fiddling with his watch. “I know I can trust you, Melinda, completely. But I need to figure out some things about Ward. It still feels as if we’re missing important pieces. He didn’t do all he did for money or power, he did it out of loyalty and affection for the wrong man. In the end, Ward lost everything he had: his place on this team, then his mentor and finally almost his life...”

Coulson stopped to think. Hard. Damn it, why hadn’t he thought about this before...?

“What is it, Phil?”, May asked, frowning. “I something wrong?”

“We need to turn around”, he ordered quickly. “To the federal prison Ward was held in.”

“We should check in with the team first, before we go out again”, she pointed out, but Coulson was already shaking his head. “Alright, but will you at least tell me what this is about now?”

“I just realized that it makes no sense and I could kick myself that I didn’t realize it earlier”, he began and May was raising an impatient eyebrow at him. “The attack on Ward in prison, it makes no sense at all. His attacker, the Hydra sleeper, laid low in prison administration for years. This means he knew exactly who Ward was when he was brought in. Why wait for three months and increase the risk he told us anything about Hydra until you try to kill him? If the attacker wanted to make sure Ward wouldn’t talk, he could’ve done it on the very first day Ward was brought in.”

“Maybe there was no opportunity beforehand”, May interjected. “The attacker was only working in administration, he might not have had access to the cells.”

Coulson shook his head.

“No, Agent Johnson told me the attacker was responsible for furniture and reparation, which means he had full access to the cells from the beginning. No, I think there’s something else behind it.”

May waited, then rolled her eyes, saying, “Do I really have to ask?”

Coulson smiled.

“It heightens the effect”, he quipped, then immediately turned serious again. “The attacker was only the executor, the order to cross off Ward was given by someone else. We need to go and find out what kind of information led to the attack on Ward and how it was transmitted to the attacker. If we’re lucky, we can ferret out another Hydra nest this way.”

This made May smile.

“Let’s go, then.”

 

-tbc-


	4. Chapter 4

Another day passed that Ward spent thinking and observing. Most of the time he was alone with only the camera for company, but he knew it was just a matter of time before Coulson would try and batter his resolves again. This was probably what his former boss had meant when he had promised him internal torture. Which was why Ward was just waiting for the right moment to get out of here.

The moment came sooner than he had hoped for. From his position in the med pod and separated from the cargo area by a wall of glass, he could see Coulson, May and Trip storming towards the ramp and Ward could only guess that there was some kind of emergency going on, though he was rather sure the plane itself was in no danger, because Skye and Simmons were nowhere to be seen. Probably some situation had called them away from the Bus in a hurry, which meant that this was Ward’s chance to get out of here without running the risk of encountering either Coulson, May or Trip.

Ward waited for another ten minutes before he brought his left hand with the IV in it to his cuffed right hand and immediately started removing the needle from his hand. Time was now of essence, because there was a rather high chance he was still being watched via the camera, though he hoped that Simmons and Skye were distracted with whatever mission was going on. Once the IV was out, a machine beside his bed started beeping and blinking. Ward cursed and moved even faster, using the needle with his left hand to pick the lock on the handcuffs. It felt like ages until he heard the satisfying click and then his hands were finally free.

Sitting up proved to be harder than he imagined and it took a moment until his head stopped spinning, though he could not get rid of the rhythmic throbbing both in his left side and in his temples. It took another long minute until he had picked the lock on his ankles because his hands were already shaking slightly. Lying down for... how long? Five days?... had certainly done a number on him.

Freed from all the manacles and tubes in his body, he finally got up on his own two legs again. He swayed so badly that he had to grip the bed railing to keep himself upright. His wounded left leg was stiff and complained heavily about the strain he put on it. Still, he had to get out of here and he told himself that he had gotten out of worse situation in worse shape with even less clothes on than this old pair of sweat pants. He could overcome the weakness of his body, it was just a matter of will. So he grabbed the tube with the needle in it and forced his body towards the door and the corner where he would not immediately be spotted through the glass wall from the outside.

It was not a moment too soon, because the door swished open and Simmons rushed in. Perfect. Ward did not hesitate and immediately came up behind her, using the tube to choke her, the needle pointing at her neck threateningly. It happened so fast that he was mostly relying on instinct and muscle memory, and before he knew it, her body was already pressed against his. She gave a small gasp, but otherwise kept herself still without panicking.

“Let her go, Ward”, a female voice demanded coldly and when he whipped his head up, he saw Skye standing in the doorway with an ICER levelled straight at him and blocking his exit. Damn, how could she have gotten there so fast and without him noticing? Had she gotten so much better or was he just too slow?

“You can’t win”, she continued, her pose more perfect than Ward remembered it being before. “Not this time. I’ll give you the chance to quietly return to your bed before I knock you out.”

He remained silent with Simmons pressed to his chest, and just looked at Skye. Her hair was shorter now and she had bangs that fell into brown eyes that used to be soft, but now carried a steely quality. Her face was exactly as he remembered (and had tried to forbid himself to evoke) and still he could not shake the feeling that this was a totally different person. Resolute, hard and unforgiving. She looked like a younger version of May. Is this what he had done to her? Had he created a new ice queen?

Despite everything, Ward could not help the surge of warmth flooding through his body, brought on by too many feelings. Affection? Probably. Regret? Maybe. Shame? Definitely.

He had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “You let me go and no one will be harmed. I just want to get out of here.”

Skye snorted at that, then replied, “Yeah, well, not gonna happen.”

There was a good deal of the old snark in her voice, hinting at the person he once knew. Before he could dwell on it, Skye had taken another step into the med pod and let the door swish shut behind her, the ICER still pointed at him.

“We’re all going to stay here because I won’t give you the code that will open this door”, she explained evenly.

“Maybe Simmons will tell me”, Ward replied as coldly as possible and tightened the tube around the young scientist’s neck.

“Ward”, Simmons whispered pleadingly, but he tried to shut it out.

“You know what?”, Skye began again after a short silence. “I don’t think you’ll really hurt her. You’re bluffing. Coulson told us you had qualms about killing members of this team.”

That somehow made Ward’s world spin a little more than it already did, before he got a grip on himself. He was a spy, for God’s sake, he could do this.

“You really want to take the risk and put your trust in my compassion?”, he asked her slowly, voice deadly.

“No, Ward, I don’t trust you or your compassion, not now and not ever again”, she spat and he was sure he could not hide a wince at that. It hurt, damn, it hurt so much. “But I trust Coulson. And he said you wouldn’t kill us.”

Ward swallowed and rearranged Simmon’s body slightly so that her much smaller frame covered him as best as possible. Skye’s ICER was still trained on him, unwavering, and he could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that she would take the first chance that would present itself. After all, it was only an ICER, so even if she missed, she would not kill the scientist.

To be honest, Ward was at a loss what to do. The glass door was locked again and they obviously did not buy his threats. It was a classic stand-off. On top of it all, he felt his body failing him. His hands were sweaty and he had a hard time to suppress the tremor in them. The dizziness got worse by the minute and he was acutely aware of Simmons’ elbow resting just above his wounded left side. Though she had squirmed only slightly, the newly awakened pain made him weak in the knees. Sitting down suddenly sounded like a great idea.

“You know”, Skye continued, “I can stand here all day. Or rather I can stand here until you pass out. Which won’t be too long, I guess.”

“Skye”, he replied, his voice husky and almost pleading. “Just let me get out of here.”

To his surprise, it was Simmons who answered him and he realized that he had unconsciously lessened the chokehold on her throat.

“Ward”, the scientist said slowly and carefully, keeping herself completely still, “it won’t do you any good. You’re on strong antibiotics. Without them, infection might set in and do you some serious harm.”

What? The confusion in Ward’s mind got bigger by the minute. Was Simmons really giving him medical advice while he held her hostage or was his mind already playing tricks on him?

He needed to do something, just standing there was not going to help him out of his situation. So he decided to move over to the locked door, but as he took the first step, his wounded left leg gave out, making him stumble. It was enough for Simmons, who pushed away from him immediately, grabbed something on the small table beside the door and rammed it into his leg. His right, unhurt leg. Though it hurt now, with the vicious stinging of whatever she had stabbed him with.

He looked up as he staggered backwards into the wall of the med pod and saw that Simmons had fled to Skye, who still held him at gun point.

“Well done, Jemma”, Skye said without moving her eyes from him. “Looks like Ward is going to have a nice, long nap until the others are back.”

That was the moment Ward started feeling it. Tingling in his arms and legs combined with an overwhelming weariness creeping up on him. Sedative. Fuck. His vision got blurry at the same time as his legs collapsed from under him, making him slide down the wall to a sitting position. He tried shaking his head to get rid of the cobwebs in his vision, but he knew he would lose this fight. Well, what would it matter to lose another fight in his epic accumulation of failings?

Though his vision was tunneling, he still realized that he was in danger of keeling over and he could not prevent it with his arms having turned unresponsive. Just before he could knock his head on the hard floor, he felt hands catching him and he thought he saw a glimpse of warm brown eyes behind a curtain of dark hair before his vision turned black.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

Coulson stood pensively in front of the med pod and watched Ward sleep through the glass door. As May, Trip and he had come back to the Bus after the reported breakout of several low-ranking Hydra agents from a prison nearby, they had been informed about Ward’s escape attempt. First, Coulson had been quite angry about Skye and Simmons not contacting them earlier on, but he realized they had had the situation under control. It did not surprise him that Ward had tried to get away, but it still disappointed him.

Just as he wanted to turn around and head to his office, Skye came sidling up to him and stared into the med pod. She was quiet for a minute or two, and Coulson just waited her out.

“I’ve been thinking”, she began slowly, not meeting his eyes. “And you were right. He didn’t try to hurt us. Actually, he seemed quite lost after he realized his threats wouldn’t work.”

Coulson gave her a long glance and a smile.

After she gathered that Coulson made no attempt to reply, she asked, “What are we going to do with him? Will you really just drop him off in prison after he’s recovered?”

“We can’t keep him on the Bus, can we?”, he replied quietly, watching her profile. “Or do you _want_ to keep him here?”

Skye sighed.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Good”, Coulson said with a small smile and she gave him an incredulous look. “I can work with that. Come on, I have a task for you.”

He led her silently through the Bus and into his office. She followed rather hesitantly and sat down on the chair on the opposite side of his desk, still giving him a look that let him know she thought he behaved strangely. Again. He reached into his desk and placed a small hard disk in front of her.

“This”, he said, motioning to the device, “is what we found in the home of the Hydra sleeper agent who shot Ward. It was very well hidden under a fake tile under his private desk. We missed it the first time, but I had reason to believe there was something in his belongings that had led to the assassination attempt and had his office and home searched again, this time more thoroughly. The hard drive is heavily encrypted, so we don’t know yet if this is what we’re looking for. Could you decrypt it for me?”

Skye reached slowly for the device, toying a bit with it in her hands.

“Do you think it contains information about Ward?”, she asked quietly.

“It might”, he replied. “We really don’t know yet what’s on it, but we hope it’s not the sleeper’s tax return.”

Nodding, Skye pocketed the hard drive and left the office.

For the next twenty-four hours, Coulson did not see her again. She skipped every meal and even missed the short briefing before May took the Bus to Frankfurt in Germany, because they received a new lead on Raina. Coulson was too preoccupied to notice at first.

After making sure that Ward would stay put this time, he and May had set out shortly after landing, but the new lead was already cold by the time they got to Frankfurt. When he returned to the Bus, rather disgruntled because of the newest dead end, he was already awaited by a tired and upset looking Skye.

“Coulson”, she called out to him just as he stepped out of the car. Whenever she used his surname he knew it was serious. “Could I talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure”, he replied, walking her to his office. He could not help but notice that there were dark circles under her eyes and that her hair was unwashed. She must have been working on her newest task without any rest.

As soon as he had closed the door, she blurted out, “I was able to decrypt the hard disk.”

Even Coulson had to admit he was impressed. When she did not reply but just stared at the device in her hand, he prompted her gently, “Well?”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and her face was pale when she answered hoarsely, “It’s bad.”

 

-x-x-x-x-x-

 

Ward was bored. Since his escape attempt the day before, he had been cuffed at both wrists and was left mostly to his own devices. There was nothing to do but stare at the wall and wallow in his own misery. And even he was getting tired of that. At least they let him sit up a bit now.

His returning restlessness was a sign that he recovered nicely. However, there was no outlet for it in here and he was fed up with sleeping. If at least he had something to read... They would probably even give him a book if he asked for it. But he would sooner die than beg for favors.

The swishing of the door brought him out of his contemplations and when he looked up, he saw Coulson and Skye walking in, a laptop under her arm. Ward instantly felt his eyes narrowing at that. So Coulson tried something new now by bringing Skye into it. Another low move. His training immediately picked up on the serious faces of both of them combined with two sets of slumped shoulders. Beside that, he could not help but notice that Skye looked like hell. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin pale. It looked like she had not slept in a week. Without any of his doing, he instantly felt on edge.

“Ward”, his former boss greeted him seriously without any of the pretended kindness of his last few visits. “We need to talk.”

“So we finally get to it?”, Ward asked with a smirk. “Torture round... Fifty? Sixty? I almost thought you had forgotten about that.”

“No”, Skye butted in, looking even paler than a moment before. “ _We_ , meaning Coulson and me, need to talk to you. You just need to listen.”

It was hard to remain unaffected in the face of their openly displayed... apprehension? Worry? He was so sick of second guessing about their intentions and where their scheming would lead to.

“First”, Coulson began, “I’d like to apologize, on the behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D. We should’ve realized that something was up with you and should’ve prevented it. I know you’re good, one of our best, but you weren’t good enough not to raise any suspicion. Only in the last few weeks I came to realize that you triggered quite a few alarms. Did you know that you failed your first and only psychological evaluation or did Garrett just let it disappear before you had any chance to take a look at it? I have a digital copy of the sheet here, with the handwritten notes of the psychologist saying that you might suffer from PTSD before you even went onto your first mission and that she recommends some further sessions. This file mysteriously disappeared and you never took another psychological evaluation again, though every agent is required to go through them once a year.”

Coulson paused and Ward forced himself to meet the older man’s eyes. He could not let this information have any power over him, though it was news to him. Of course he remembered going through the evaluation, but he had never heard anything about it again and John had told him he had done fine. He had always guessed that the fact he was exempt from later evaluations was a small gift from John.

“There were other things”, Coulson continued. “Injuries and scars unaccounted for, excessive drinking, insubordination in your first year towards anyone who wasn’t Garrett. I have five files here from five different people, who all appealed to your superiors that you should be kept away from any field work for a few weeks or months because you displayed unhealthy behavior. And you know what? These files disappeared mysteriously, too. And after a few years, you didn’t make such mistakes anymore. I guess everybody was happy it stopped.” After a short pause, he added quietly, “I’m not even mad that Garrett let these files disappear, because that’s what he did all along, deceive people. I’m mad that S.H.I.E.L.D. let it happen. No one, not one of these people, who were all seasoned agents, thought it necessary to make sure their reservations about you were heeded. And you know why? You were too valuable to just waste time in therapy or in a much-needed time-out.”

Of all the things Ward hated about S.H.I.E.L.D., failure to put him in therapy certainly was not one of them. He was unsure why Coulson thought he would care about that. If his former boss wanted him to lose even the last good memories Ward had of this agency, he just needed to continue like this.

“In this regard, you were as much a tool to S.H.I.E.L.D as you were to Garrett”, Coulson said quietly, his face carefully neutral. “With the difference that you thought Garrett cared about you. I tell you, Ward, he didn’t. You meant nothing to him.”

Though Ward _knew_ it was not true, it still made him angry. Coulson, the master schemer and great manipulator in the guise of a humanitarian, wanted to explain the bond Ward had shared with John. If he had been a bit less annoyed, he might have scoffed in Coulson’s face at the irony of it.

“You know nothing about him”, he growled instead.

“Oh, I know quite a lot about him, I learnt even more about him in the last two hours”, Coulson replied, his eyes looking wistful. “Garrett saw you as a very precious, very deadly weapon. If you want your gun to function, you have to take care of it and oil it so it won’t get rusty or damaged. However, as soon as the gun doesn’t function properly anymore, it’s worthless and you’ve got to throw it away.”

Now this was just sad, all this trash talk about John. Were they this desperate by now?

“Yeah, right”, Ward snorted mockingly. “Your nice little story has only one big loop in it: John has never let me down, he never ‘threw me away’. S.H.I.E.L.D. did that, but never John.”

“Ward”, Skye started talking hesitantly. She had been so quiet until now that he had almost forgotten about her. He looked over to where she was sitting huddled on her chair in the corner with her laptop on the table beside her. Was she crying? Why was she crying? “Whatever you thought Garrett was to you, it was all a lie. Please, you got to believe this.”

It was all bullshit, but Skye was sitting there with tears in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. She was crying because of him, because he had obviously hurt her again, though he had no idea what he had done wrong this time. The wish to make it better and to stop her tears was strong, so he asked quietly, “Why should I?”

“Because it was Garrett who ordered to kill you!”, she blurted out, her voice hitching.

What the hell...?

“Garrett is dead in case you hadn’t noticed”, he put in sarcastically.

Skye sniffed once and took a deep breath before she turned the laptop she had on the small table towards him.

“This is the material we found on the hard drive that was in possession of the Hydra agent that shot you”, she started to explain. “It was encrypted, but I managed cracking it. On it, we found one large file.” Skye paused, then added without looking at him, “It is Garrett’s last will and some kind of report.”

Though he _knew_ that they were lying, Ward could feel himself freezing.

“On it, we found a lot of information how to run specific operations and what to do with loose ends”, Skye continued slowly in a voice that was shaking. “File number 39 says that _‘Project Rat Nr. 7 GW needs to be eliminated in case he is arrested or has otherwise proved himself to be of no use anymore.’_ ”

Ward felt that he was shaking his head without remembering when he began with it. The coldness spread slowly from his stomach to his upper chest and into his legs and arms. God, he was freezing.

“You’re lying!”, he spat, blinking rapidly. “Are you so desperate that you have to come up with such ridiculous lies?”

“We’re not lying, Ward”, Coulson said, eyes kind and compassionate. “This is the truth. I’m sorry.”

“Project Rat Nr. 7 GW is you, Grant”, Skye continued almost tonelessly. “You weren’t even the first he tried to manipulate in such a horrible way. There were six boys he tried to control before you came along. The experiment always failed and we don’t know what became of them. Garrett’s progress with ‘Project Rat’ is documented on this hard drive in detail.”

Ward was still shaking his head, it seemed like he could not stop shaking it and the rest of his body shook along with it. Maybe they injected him with something...? His heart was beating madly in his chest and it felt like he could not get enough air into his lungs.

“I don’t believe you”, he whispered. It could not be true, there was no way.

“There is something else noted just after Garrett wrote down the order to kill you”, Skye said quietly. “ _’Reason for elimination: GW has proven himself to be a safety risk. Sentimentalism, attachment to people and hesitancy to execute kill orders in certain cases could not be eradicated despite years of training. He cannot be trusted fully because of this defectiveness (cf. Buddy).’_ We don’t know who or what this Buddy is, but...”

This was when Ward’s world crashed. He never heard the end of Skye’s sentence because all the caged feelings – rage, desperation, fear – came roaring up at once. It felt as if his mind was smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, like glass that fell on a cold stone floor.

“Get out”, he whispered, pulling on his chained wrists in an attempt to cover his face with his hands. It made his wounds throb with pain, but he almost relished the bodily discomfort. “Get out! GET OUT!”

He realized he was shouting now, but he was past caring. He wanted to get up and run, hide somewhere and never come out again. What had they done to him? Then after a moment an utterly debilitating thought rose up in him: Oh God, what have _I_ done?

“Grant”, Coulson tried quietly, coming closer with eyes filled with sadness. It only made Ward pull on his restraints all the harder.

“I don’t want to hear it! GET OUT! Fuck you, Coulson! Go rot in hell!”

His eyes were getting so blurry, he hardly noticed Skye rushing out of the room with a barely repressed sob, while Coulson lingered in the doorway. Ward’s breathing came in great shudders and his whole body was shaking. Something wet dripped on his bare chest, but he was beyond caring about anything.

“Please, you need to see...”, the older man tried again.

“GET OUT!”, Ward screamed as loud as he could. “GET OUT!”

Coulson raised his hands in defeat and slowly went out of the med pod, the door swishing shut behind him.

 

-tbc-


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Maybe it’s because this story got so much support from all the lovely readers and reviewers, maybe it’s because I always tend to get slightly carried away by the plot, well, fact is that this isn’t yet the last chapter. It’s the second-to-last. I really wanted to have this story finished by now (season 2 having started again, work, etc.), but the last chapter got much too long, so I decided to split it up into two chapters. Hope no one is sad because of that. ;-)
> 
> Then well, as I said above, season 2 started. I liked the first episode, though I’m not completely blown away (high expectance and such just suck...). Anyway, this means of course that we’re going AU with this story. But hey! let’s not get carried away by canon, right? :-))) 
> 
> Hope you like the new chapter!

The last three weeks had been long.

Coulson ran a hand across his face as he watched Simmons patch up Trip in the lab. It was just a long gash down his back, but it was enough to make Coulson realize again that they were stretched too thinly. May was still limping from a knee injury she received a few days ago and it would at least be another three weeks until they could start thinking about Fitz coming back to them. On top of it all, he had just received the news that four S.H.I.E.L.D. agents had been killed in an ambush today. Coulson had known one of them for years, they had worked on a few operations together.

It looked like Hydra had gotten stronger in the past few weeks and they had received vague intel that there was a new leader in the game, though they had not yet been able to find out any details about his person and base of operation. All that Coulson could say for sure was that S.H.I.E.L.D. was dealing with the fallout.

“This will take another thirty minutes or so”, Simmons announced from where she was working on Trip and looked up at Coulson. “Could you maybe take dinner to Ward, sir? It will be cold by the time I’ve finished here.”

“Sure”, he replied, pushing away from the wall he had leaned against. “Just take the time you need to finish.”

Ward. He was never far from Coulson’s thoughts. Three weeks had passed since his breakdown (there was no other word for it, though Coulson had searched for one). Whatever Coulson had guessed what would happen after telling him the truth about Garrett, he had certainly been unable to foresee this present situation. What he had expected was mounting resistance from Ward, ugly clashes and more escape attempts. Maybe he had even hoped for repentance. But he had certainly not expected Ward to shut down the way he did. In three weeks, he had not said one word. He never even acknowledged them when they were in the same room. On the other hand, he was much easier to handle and did everything he was told to. There was not even a hint of resistance in him anymore.

While he prepared the food in the kitchen, Coulson thought back to the day after Ward’s breakdown and felt himself shudder slightly. Ward had first refused any food and Trip had come complaining to Coulson about it. With the recent events still on the forefront on Coulson’s mind, he had made the mistake of threatening Ward with force-feeding. To Coulson’s horror, the younger man had then just picked up the fork and started eating mechanically, like some damn robot. Eating had never been a problem since.

Coulson picked up the pasta and made his way to the interrogation room. They had moved Ward to this room almost two weeks ago, when he had already recovered somewhat from his injuries. They might as well have given him his old bunk (had it not been occupied by Trip), because Ward never tried anything. He just sat there and stared off into nothingness. They had also started taking him outside for short walks and Coulson was sure that if they sat him down on a rock in the morning, then went on a mission and came back in the evening, Ward would still sit there without having moved from his place even once. Thinking back to the day of Ward’s arrest when Coulson had ordered him to find out who he was without Garrett, he had never expected this to be the answer. Ward was nothing without Garrett, a shell that was barely alive.

Coulson sighed as he paused in front of the door to the interrogation room. He had thought there was a way to help Ward, but now he had to admit that he might have made everything worse. Maybe it was time to call in a psychiatrist. But they were running short of personnel and he was unsure if it would really do some good. Everyone on the team was trying to help, even May. It moved Coulson to see that the team, confronted daily with the depth of Ward’s issues, was starting to forgive their former team member. It would be a long and hard road to redemption, but at least the team was willing to give Ward access to this path. The more pressing question was now if Ward would be able to forgive himself and move forward. It certainly did not look like it at the moment.

Coulson knocked once on the door, then turned the lock and stepped into the room. Ward was sitting on the cot they had moved in here after he had been well enough to leave the med pod. The books they had given him were still lying untouched in one of the corners.

“Hello Grant”, Coulson greeted quietly and put the tray down on the table, then moved to sit on the opposite chair. “I hope you’re doing fine today. I brought you pasta. Skye made the sauce. Always a bit of a risk when we let her cook, but I think it turned out alright.”

Ward did not reply to anything he said and his eyes never met Coulson’s, but he got up and sat down at the table, then started eating. It was strange, but they all got used to Ward not answering any of their questions and barely reacting to their presence. Still, this did not mean that they never talked to him. Especially Skye was practically talking his ears off whenever she brought him his meals. On first glance, it looked like she was glad that there was no one interrupting her for once, but Coulson knew better. He had heard her crying quietly too often in her bunk afterwards to think that she was anywhere near happy with how things were going.

Coulson remained silent while he watched Ward eat. The former agent had lost a lot of weight and muscle since he was shot, the clothes sagging on his frame. His beard had gotten longer and somewhat bushier, but when Coulson had asked Ward if he wanted to shave or trim it, there had been no answer, so they just let him be. It did not feel right to make such decisions for him and Coulson had a very bad feeling about leaving a razor with Ward.

“Can you show me your side and leg?”, Coulson asked after Ward had finished eating. This was also part of the routine, to make sure everything healed up fine. Ward wordlessly lifted his black shirt, then rolled up his sweat pants and let Coulson inspect the puckered scars. Simmons had removed the stitches yesterday and there was no sign of any infection. At least his body was healing alright, which was something. It would take another month or two until Ward could be proclaimed completely healed, but there had been no complications so far.

The sound of a throat being cleared made Coulson look up from the scar on the leg, then Ward spoke hoarsely, “I want you to take me back to prison.”

Coulson was so surprised that the former agent had spoken that he only realized after a second or two what the other had actually said. It made him frown.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea”, Coulson replied carefully, trying to act as if there was nothing special about Ward keeping silent for three weeks, then suddenly beginning to talk again. “You’re not yet recovered, you need more time to heal.”

It was a sorry excuse, he knew it and he was rather sure that Ward knew it, too. Medically speaking, there was no reason not to send him back now. Even in prison, he would have been discharged from the hospital ward by now and been returned to his cell. No strenuous activities, Simmons had said, but sitting around in a cell could hardly be called strenuous. This was what Ward did here, too.

But Coulson was reluctant to keep to the initial plan and send the former agent back to prison. Whenever someone of his team brought up the topic, he was quick in dismissing anything specific. He had the bad feeling that Ward would not last long, if they sent him back now. But was it in his power to deny Ward’s request, when it was exactly what Coulson had promised to do and when he wanted to follow the path of honesty?

“Why don’t we wait for another week or two and then decide about what to do?”, Coulson asked and watched Ward closely. The other stared down at his empty plate and stayed quiet. It looked like Coulson would not receive any more answers tonight.

“Look”, Coulson began quietly, thinking it might be best to get some things off his chest right now. “You made me see what’s wrong with S.H.I.E.L.D. This organization had one big weakness: Making people think that they’re just tools, instruments, means to an end. This is why S.H.I.E.L.D. crumbled. We can’t go on like that and I’m definitely done with torture and inflicting pain on people just to know more secrets. The new S.H.I.E.L.D. is supposed to be better than the old S.H.I.E.L.D. And there might even be a place for you in it, in the future. If you want it.”

Ward looked up and met his eyes for the first time in three weeks, these brown eyes looking completely lifeless, then repeated slowly, “I want you to take me back to prison.”

Coulson sighed, then gathered the tray and stood up. What was there to do? It could not get any worse than it was right now, so he did not have much to lose.

“I’ll think about it”, Coulson promised quietly and left the room.

 

-x-x-x-x-

 

The next day, Ward was led out of the Bus and into the SUV that would bring him back to prison. His hands were uncuffed, as they had been the last two weeks. He wanted to take a last look back at the plane that held so many good memories for him, but he was sure Coulson and Skye, who accompanied him, would notice. He was also rather sure that the rest of the team was assembled on the ramp and he could not bear looking back at them. He had lost any right to feel anything like nostalgia. Scratch that, it was better he stopped feeling at all.

Since the day his world had come crashing down and Coulson had told him about Garrett, he had felt too many things at once. He could only barely recollect the first week and even the second week was still blurry. He must have been in some kind of shock. After that, he had realized that it would be safest to minimize contact with the team. He had definitely lost the right to be in their midst and he was afraid that when he began talking and interacting with them, the brittle walls he had erected around the storm of feelings would come crashing down at once. He had never felt as off-balance as right now and he sometimes wondered if he had already crossed the border to madness. Not a year before, he would have scoffed at anyone who even implied he might have lost some of his marbles, but now he was not so sure anymore. There was only so much a human mind could take and he was pretty sure he was pushing the limits.

As it was, it came as a relief that Coulson had agreed with taking him back to prison, which would be putting more distance between himself and the team. It was the bitter irony of it all that finally, after John had died and everything had been revealed to be one big scam, he succeeded in separating himself from the team, both mentally and spatially. He was the monster in their midst, the poison in their water and he looked forward to getting back where he belonged. In a deep, dark hole in the ground.

He had been the one who had naively believed in Garrett’s lies, who had gambled with such high stakes and had fallen so low, who had resisted the truth even when it had been apparent for everyone else. Even worse, he had been so wrong in his judgment that he had sacrificed the only people who had ever truly cared about him in favor of the lies of a master puppeteer. With Ward himself being the lead puppet. Even thinking about it made him sick. He would never be able to make up for his sins. Never.

“Get in”, Coulson told him gently and held open the door to the backseat. Ward could not bring himself to meet the older man’s eyes, but obeyed silently. Coulson had done so much for him and Ward had deserved none of it. Whatever he had seen in Garrett had been misplaced and what Coulson had offered so generously he had spurned. Was there anything Ward had _not_ done wrong in his life?

“You’ll take care of yourself, right?”, Skye asked from the passenger seat and turned around to look at him. Another pair of eyes he could not bring himself to meet. Sweet, stubborn, snarky Skye... She had been too good for him from the beginning and he had known it. It had been another mistake on his part to think they could become something... more. He had never been good with women (with the exception of his marks, he had been great at seducing his marks), but with her, he had seen something like a shared future together. It hurt to be away from her, but right now, it hurt even more to be in her presence.

They took off, the silence in the car stretching. The team was by now used to his lack of answers and did not try anymore to evoke any kind of reaction from him. Ward was glad for it. It was much easier this way, for everybody involved. He watched the landscape rush past him, the houses, fields and trees. How long would it be until he would see this world again? Maybe never. He knew there was quite a good chance this was the last time he would see the outside world again, since they had every right to keep him in his prison hole for decades to come. There was also quite a high risk Hydra would try to cross him off again. So he tried to savor the view, absorb it and remember the world like this. A beautiful place on the outside. The inside however... he would gladly forget about the inside.

“We’ll be keeping tabs on you”, Coulson broke the silence. “We’ll make sure you’re treated properly from now on. I even spoke with our agent inside the prison about increasing security, there’ll be... Hold on! We’re going to...”

Everything else went down in the noise of screeching tires and breaking glass, the shock of an impact knocking Ward’s head into the side of the car door. His vision went white for a moment, but he was able to hold on to consciousness, though he felt dazed. The car slithered to a stop and he could hear someone moaning. His training kicked in immediately and he had freed himself from the safety belt before he had consciously made any decision. He leaned forward to check on Coulson and Skye. Skye was not moving and he could see blood dripping from her forehead. Coulson was half-conscious, moaning and moving around sluggishly.

What the hell had just happened? Scratch that, he would worry about the details later. Ward quickly checked his surroundings and noticed that a black van had stopped next to them, four men getting out of it. Accident or attack? Accident or attack...? They were walking briskly, but calmly and Ward could see all four of them reaching behind their backs. Definitely attack. He quickly tried getting out of the car on the other side of the approaching men, but the door was smashed in and did not budge. Damn it! He reached forward and tried to get to the glove box, but it was secured with a fingerprint lock. Which of course denied him access. Just as he wanted to pat down Skye for at least an ICER, the door to the backseat was ripped open and Ward reacted with a kick to the arms reaching inside. A shout of pain was the satisfying answer he got. The click of a gun then stopped him.

“No more funny moves”, a voice barked and Ward looked down the barrels of two guns. “Get out of the car.”

Ward had no other choice but to follow their orders. As soon as he was out, he received a fist to the stomach for his troubles, then was pushed to his knees. They did not need to use much force, the pain of the blow to his not-so-healed side was almost enough to bring him to his knees all by itself. He needed a moment to breathe through the pain and blink away the stars, before he was able to look up. Two of the men brought Coulson and Skye out of the car. Skye was still unconscious (Ward could see her chest moving, thank God), but Coulson was walking on his own, though uncoordinated, and pressed his right arm to his chest. This did not look good.

Ward observed the four men unobtrusively, while turning his face away as best as possible. Two of them were middle-aged, the other two certainly younger than Ward. Their guns were customized and they were much too calm to be anything but professionals. Nothing about this attack seemed random which was why there was only one possible explanation to their identities: Hydra.

A hand suddenly turned Ward’s face roughly towards one of the older men, a rather portly man with blond hair, who immediately started to smile.

“Boys”, he drawled. “We caught us some rat together with the big fish. Grant Ward, pleased to finally meet you. Almost didn’t recognize you under that bush.”

Ward tried to jerk his head away from the hand, but was stopped by a gun that was levelled at his forehead.

“Did you also get the memo that says he’s to be eliminated?”, one of the young men asked lazily, holding the weapon steady. “Best to finish him right now. Boss only wants S.H.I.E.L.D. agents alive.”

Ward calculated his chances of ripping the gun away, but he could see three more that were pointing roughly in his direction. Even twitching under these circumstances was suicide.

“Don’t rush it, boy”, the blond one stopped the younger man. “The boss might want to have a word with Garrett’s former lapdog and who knows, he might even prove to be useful. The thing with rats is that you never know for sure on which side they’re on right now. So, Ward, what team are you on today?”

“They wanted to bring me back to prison”, Ward replied slowly, still mindful of the gun on his forehead. “What do you think?”

The blond one smiled at that, but the younger man frowned deeply and asked, “Then why aren’t you handcuffed?”

“Implant in my neck”, Ward lied smoothly, fixing the younger man with a cold stare. “One wrong move and I’m dead. Don’t let Coulson reach inside his jacket or you can as well fire the bullet yourself right now.”

Ward looked over to Coulson and saw that his former boss had recovered slightly. His eyes were clearer and he gave Ward a tiny nod.

“They used an implant to control you?”, the blond one asked Ward, a smirk creeping on his lips. “Interesting. The boss might like this.” Then he turned to the young man holding the gun to Ward’s head, “I told you the rat could still be useful, Flynn, even more so when there’s an easy way to control him. Get the device from Coulson.”

The gun was drawn away from Ward’s forehead and the one called Flynn made the mistake of stepping right into the line of fire of his buddy on the way to reach Coulson, unintentionally giving Ward cover. Only the blond one and the one guarding Coulson left with guns that were pointing somewhere in his direction. Ward had had worse odds before.

He shot to his feet and aimed a kick at the arm of the blond, sending the gun flying, then grabbed the same arm and twisted it around until he could hear something snap. There was a shout of pain coming from the man, but Ward just ripped him around, using his body as cover. A gun went off, but the bullet missed him by inches. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Coulson darting up as well, latching on the arm of the Hydra agent next to him and smashing the back of his head into the face of his captor on his way up.

“Ward!”, Coulson shouted, then threw something in his direction that Ward caught easily in midflight. An ICER. It settled well into his hands.

The rest was over almost disappointingly quick. He first shot Flynn, right on the forehead, then the one standing beside Skye, in the chest. The man kneeling now beside Coulson was almost unconscious already, with blood streaming down from a nose that was doubtlessly broken, but Ward lost no time to shoot him, too. Last he hit the blond man he had used as a cover upside the head with the ICER and let him crumple to the ground in front of him. This one’s headache would be a bit worse than the others’, but he was out all the same.

Ward took a moment to breathe and check his surroundings. Everything looked clear, no more attackers. His head was throbbing and he could feel blood streaming down his face from where he had hit his head on the car door, and his side and leg were hurting as well. There was also a quivering in his legs and arms that told him that he was desperately out of shape.

Nevertheless, he felt a smile spread across his face as he stood among the chaos of two smashed cars and a horde of unconscious people, with adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He felt alive, for the first time in months. This is what he did, what he was good at. Not being Garrett’s puppet, but protecting people. People who were worth saving and for whom he would gladly give his life if it meant they lived.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, he realized that this was what he had been doing all along. All these years he had thought that protecting people was an act, to make S.H.I.E.L.D. think he was the perfect agent to help Garrett with whatever needed to be done. But Ward had gotten it all wrong, though this time, his mistake also brought a certain kind of relief: Not everything had been a sham, he had just been a complete disaster in keeping right and wrong apart. What he had thought was the right thing to do, helping Garrett, proved to be a huge mistake, while he did the truly right thing all along while thinking it was just an act. Though this realization showed him again how messed up his life was, it felt at the same time as if there was firm ground beneath his feet again. Not everything was free floating and it looked like he had come across a compass along the way.

“Ward”, Coulson’s voice called out hesitantly and Ward realized that he had been standing in one place for too long, smiling at the scene of chaos in front of him. Coulson’s look told him that the other thought he had now completely lost his mind. Nothing was farther away from the truth. Ward felt saner than he had in the last four months combined. Scratch that, he felt like he had seen the light for the first time in years. God, that was exhilarating.

“I would definitely feel better if you returned the ICER back to me”, Coulson suggested calmly, though the look in his eyes implied that he was braced for every reaction, from crying over laughing hysterically to an open attack. Ward thought it unfair to prolong his former boss’ uncertainty and secured the ICER, then handed it back to Coulson with the hilt first, which produced a barely audible sigh from the older man.

“Why did you give it to me in the first place?”, Ward asked carefully.

“My right arm is broken”, Coulson replied matter-of-factly. “I’m pretty sure I’m concussed, my vision is still blurry.”

Ward had a hard time not to stare at the older man. This would have been a perfect explanation for everything five months ago, but Ward had actually meant something completely different than the physical fitness to shoot a gun.

However, every thought in this direction was driven from his mind, when Coulson kneeled unsteadily beside Skye’s unmoving body. Ward immediately followed suit, his fingers gently moving the bangs away from the gaping wound on her forehead. He searched her body for other injuries, but luckily the head wound was everything he could detect. Of course Simmons would need to make sure he had not missed any internal injuries.

“I think it’s just a concussion”, Ward told Coulson, who grew paler from minute to minute himself. “We need to get her back to the Bus.”

Coulson nodded, then winced at the movement and got up, swaying where he stood. Ward gently gathered Skye’s body in his arms and got to his feet. She felt incredibly small in his arms and Ward could not shake the feeling that he would break her if he held her too tightly. Very carefully, he carried her to the two damaged cars, then paused.

“We’ll take their van”, Ward decided, having looked at both cars closely. “It’s bigger, which means we can bring our attackers back as prisoners, and the van is less damaged than the SUV. The SUV is pretty much just a scrap heap, the axle is broken.”

He waited for Coulson’s nod of approval, then opened the front door to set down Skye in the middle of the three front seats. She began stirring and Ward froze when she opened her eyes, because his arms were still around her.

“Grant?”, she questioned quietly, moaning when she struggled to focus her eyes on him. “What happened?”

“We were attacked”, he answered, starting to pull his arms away from her, but he tightened them again when her gaze became alarmed and she tried to sit up a bit more. “But we’re safe, okay? You’re safe, Coulson is safe, nothing to worry about.”

“You got it under control”, she replied, her eyes still confused and voice heavy with exhaustion, but at least she started to relax and he wanted to let go of her, when she suddenly reached for his hand. “Of course you got it under control, you’re special agent Grant Ward and you’ll keep us safe.”

“Yeah, something like that”, he answered wryly and could not keep a small smile off his face. It was the concussion speaking, he knew that, and she would probably not remember this part later, but it still felt good. Even though she was right now in the belief that the last four months had never happened. However, there was a time to be content with the little things.

“Just relax, we’ll be back on the Bus soon”, he promised, then went back to support Coulson to the van. Only after he had carried all four unconscious Hydra agent to the van, bound them, set the SUV on fire, hot-wired the van and destroyed the tracker, he drove away from the site of destruction. All in all, it had not taken more than five minutes. Which was good, they needed to be away before the police was here.

No one spoke as Ward drove the van the same way back from where they had come from. It would take another hour or longer until they reached the Bus. He glanced over to Skye and Coulson. Skye was asleep again, slumping in the seat, while Coulson tried desperately to keep himself awake, a constant grimace of pain on his face.

The longer they drove, the more Ward became aware of his own hurts and exhaustion. The adrenaline, which had kept him active and exhilarated, was ebbing away fast, leaving him to deal with all the doubts and the soreness he had been able to keep away during the fight. Nothing had changed, Ward thought darkly. There was still no way to undo his betrayal and his crimes. And he was still a prisoner. He might be the one driving and guiding this van, but other people were deciding over his life. He was not free, far from it.

For the first time in months he found himself raging against his sentence, at least internally. He did not want to go back to prison, he hated that place and he would die in there if they brought him back to this hole. For a short time, he considered an escape attempt, then immediately dismissed the thought again. Skye and Coulson needed medical attention and beside that, there was something he feared even more than years of imprisonment: To disappoint the only people who ever cared about him, again.

“Thanks, Ward”, Coulson spoke slowly, training heavy eyes on him. “For helping us out... protecting us. This would’ve ended badly without you.”

“It’s nothing”, Ward murmured somberly. What was one good deed against a lifetime of crimes and deception?

“It’s not nothing”, Coulson argued. “You could’ve left us there, but you decided to help us.”

Ward just shrugged his shoulders, wincing at the pain of it, and kept silent. Coulson just gave him a tired smile, then went back to staring out of the window.

With every mile they came closer to the Bus, Ward felt his agitation rise. Would they send him back to prison right away? Would they think all of this had been one of his schemes? It took all of his will power to keep himself from fidgeting and just keep driving. A voice in his head that sounded awfully like Garrett told him to run and hide, to regroup and get his head back into the game, but he suppressed it. He was done running away. He owed at least this much to the team, to return two of their own safely. He had promised Skye to protect her, he could never make up what he did wrong when it came to her, but he could do this, he could... Ward shook his head, trying to clear it and took a deep breath. There was no way around it, he needed to bring them back. As much for his own sake as for theirs.

The Bus came into view, much too fast in Ward’s opinion. His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. Two figures jumped down from the half-open ramp, both drawing their weapons. Ward recognized Trip and May. He slowed down the van, then came to a stop.

“Get out of the car!”, May barked, pointing a real gun at him through the front shield. “Hands behind your head.”

Ward did as he was told, making sure his movements were slow and unthreatening. Immediately he was turned towards the van, searched for weapons and his hands were cuffed.

“It’s fine, Melinda”, Coulson said from where he had got out of the van, one hand on the hood for support. “Ward helped us. We were attacked by Hydra and Ward managed to knock them out. They are in the back of the van, unconscious.”

May looked at Ward suspiciously and he could see that Trip still had to lower his gun that was trained on him as well.

“Trip, get Ward back to the interrogation room”, Coulson ordered, even though the decision seemed to pain him. Ward certainly was the last one who could blame him for it and he realized that this decision would primarily serve to calm down May and Trip, who looked ready to take him down at the slightest sign of resistance. Fool them once... Only fools would trust him, after everything he had done, and May and Trip certainly did not qualify as fools.

“Come on, man”, Trip prompted him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.”

“Skye’s hurt”, Ward spoke up, not looking at anyone. They were all so occupied with him that no one had made any move to help her yet. “She needs medical attention.”

“We’ll see that she gets it, Ward”, Coulson promised, giving him a small smile. “Don’t you worry about it.”

Ward nodded at that. What was there left to do but trust him? He let himself be led back on the Bus.

 

-tbc-


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the final chapter. It’s rather short and maybe a bit anti-climatic, but this is what happens when you break up a chapter into two parts... Hope you like it anyway!

Ward had only sat on the cot in the interrogation room for about twenty minutes, staring at his cuffed hands, when he heard the door being unlocked again from the outside. He looked up and saw that it was Trip, motioning for him to get up.

“Come on”, the specialist prompted him, face for once unsmiling and unreadable. “We need this room for our new guests and you look like you need some patching up.”

Ward got up slowly, hiding a wince when his side and leg protested, then walked out of the room under the watchful gaze of Trip.

“Wait”, the younger man said when Ward wanted to move past him. “Let’s get these off of you.”

The cuffs on his wrists clicked open and Ward started rubbing his hands to get the feeling back into them.

“We don’t need them anymore, do we?”, Trip asked him carefully, giving him a thorough once-over.

“No”, Ward answered quietly. There was no point in mentioning that he could have gotten the handcuffs off anytime he wanted. After all, Trip had gone through the same training he himself had absolved under Garrett’s strict regiment. Then again, maybe Ward’s own training had gone a little differently than Trip’s.

He silently followed the agent through the plane and down the stairs to the lab. Skye was there, conscious again, but visibly groggy, being tended to by Simmons. Coulson was there, too, his right arm in a makeshift sling.

“I’ll be back in a moment”, Trip announced. “I’ll just make sure that our special guests are comfortable in their new home.”

The door to the lab swished shut again and Ward was unsure what to do and where to stand. Just as he decided it would be best to make himself as invisible as possible and to stand in one of the corners, Simmons spoke up.

“Sit on that chair”, she commanded, not lifting her eyes from the wound on Skye’s forehead that she was treating. “Your turn is next.”

For a split second Ward was unsure if she was really talking to him, but since both Skye and Coulson were already sitting, she had to mean him. And he knew better than to disobey. He had gotten all too familiar with Simmons’ bossiness when it came to treating his injuries in the past. A corner of his mouth threatened to lift up when he thought back to the dozens of times she had rolled her eyes at his scrapes and told him in a voice that would be proper for a rather thick six-year-old, ‘When will you finally learn to duck?’ So there was nothing else to do but walk over to the chair and wait for his turn. After five minutes, May and Trip joined them in the lab.

This setting – with the whole team gathered in the lab – was so familiar it was almost physically painful. Simmons tutting at Skye, May trying to look unapproachable but still watching over Skye and Coulson like a mother hen, Coulson sending a reassuring smile in Trip’s direction... It was so easy to forget what had happened in the meantime. Ward had never been one to rail against his fate, he had learned early on that there was no point in it. He had been rather good in just accepting what life threw at him and somehow deal with it. Now, he wished with every fiber of his body that he could undo the last few months and start anew.

“I don’t know much about Hydra”, he suddenly blurted out, the words just tumbling from his lips. The room went completely silent with everybody in it freezing and staring at him. “Some hide-outs, ways of communication and a few names. Two bank account numbers.” He paused and shrugged, staring at his hands, then added quietly, “Garrett never told me much. Said it was for my own safety.”

He managed to keep the bitterness and self-loathing out of his voice, though it was not easy. This was not the time for a sob story. He needed to provide information if he wanted to at least right some of his wrongs. It was just some meagre intel he could give them and his deep set instincts as an agent and a survivor told him that it was unwise to give up all the information he had at once. After all, his holding back on information was what made the team keep him here. As soon as he gave up what he knew, he would lose his value and they would send him back to prison. Still, he needed to come clear, if only to relieve the ache in his chest for a moment and the pressing weight of guilt on his conscience.

“Ward...”, Coulson started and all Ward could see was the frown on his face and the raised eyebrows.

“It’s true!”, Ward insisted fervently, because he realized how unlikely it all sounded. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’ve always been kept on a need-to-know basis only. Perhaps I can remember other things, too, like if Garrett mentioned people in a certain context, maybe weapon dealers, I...”

Ward realized his voice had turned desperate, almost pleading, and he was relieved when Coulson interrupted him.

“Stop”, the director ordered mildly. “No one accused you of lying. It’s just that you’ve kept all of this intel to yourself for the past four months, it can wait another hour until you’re cleaned up, okay?”

Ward nodded his head stiffly, still staring at his hands. Was this good or bad? Maybe Coulson thought the information he had was worthless, which was why he did not want to hear it. Well, it was true, not even the intel he could give them would make a difference.

“I know it’s not much. Telling you about it won’t take too long”, Ward replied quietly. “Enough time to send me back in the evening.”

This made Skye jerk up her head so fast that Simmons started tutting again.

“Coulson!”, she complained, voice indignant. “Is this your plan? Sending him back to jail? After everything Ward has done today?”

Coulson raised his good left arm in a placating gesture.

“Calm down, Skye. I never said this was my plan.” He paused, than asked Ward, “Do you still want to go back to prison?”

Ward ground his teeth, struggling with himself over the answer to this question. Nothing had changed after today, he tried to tell himself. He was still the traitor in their midst, his ledger was dripping red and even three lifetimes would not be enough to make up for everything he had done wrong. Still...

“No”, he answered finally.

Coulson’s eyes were shining peculiarly when he asked on, “What do _you want_ , Ward?”

Again Ward found himself struggling and again he decided to go for the truth.

“To make things undone”, he answered slowly. “To go back, make different choices. To be better.”

_To be stronger_ , a familiar voice told him, but Ward suppressed it. Not now.

“Unfortunately”, Coulson replied, almost wryly, “S.H.I.E.L.D. has not yet invented a time machine. I’m sure Fitz will work on it as soon as he’s back. So the question still stands: What do you want to do?”

Ward did not dare to look up when he answered simply, “I want to help. Try and make things right.”

He could not bring himself to say that he wished to be part of the team again. He would do whatever needed to be done, this had to be enough for now.

“Okay”, Coulson replied, giving him a small nod. “Come and see me in my office as soon as you’re patched up.”

The director got up from his chair and wanted to move out of the lab when Simmons’ voice stopped him.

“We’re not done yet”, she reminded him rather sharply, then added belatedly, “sir.”

“Crap”, Coulson answered, smiling ruefully when he turned back around. “I’m sure sneaking off will work one of these days.”

“Nice try, sir”, Trip commented with a grin. “But believe me: I’ve tried. Simmons got eyes like a hawk and she always watches her prey. You’re only left alone after she’s poked your sore spots at least three times.”

The scientist rolled her eyes at that and sent a small, conspiratorial smile to Ward.

“Am I really that bad?”, she asked him in a mock serious voice. “You should know, Ward, you’ve got the longest and most thorough acquaintance with my bedside manner.”

Since he had not expected to be drawn into their antics, Ward was completely at a loss what to do or say. He had mostly been left to his own devices by the team in the last few weeks and his mind was still trying to come up with scenarios of what Coulson wanted to speak to him about.

“I’m...”, he began to stutter when all eyes turned on him. “Ahm... I think you’re alright. You’re not poking too hard, I mean... Some of the other medics are... rougher.”

Simmons was staring at him as if he had grown a second head, while Skye suddenly burst out laughing.

“Still swinging and missing, Ward”, she giggled and Ward could not help but think that maybe Simmons had shot her up with the good drugs. “God, you’re really awful with compliments. Not just the cover-you, but the real you.”

The other members of the team watched him carefully for any kind of reaction, so Ward finally decided to shrug, but he could not keep one corner of his lips from lifting. It was enough for Skye, who smiled back at him brilliantly.

Patching him up did not take too long, since none of his hurts was serious. Ward almost wished it would have taken longer, but before he knew it, Coulson already escorted him back to the office.

“Take a seat”, the older man directed and Ward did as he was told.

Coulson was silent for a moment and stared at his own arm that rested in the sling, before he looked up.

“Look”, he began, “I really don’t want to send you back to prison. But we got a bit of a problem here, because you _are_ a criminal, Ward. You killed people, you were part of a hostile takeover and you misled this agency right from the beginning. You betrayed this team and attacked your colleagues. This isn’t something a simple _‘I’m sorry’_ can make up for.”

“I know”, Ward murmured quietly.

Coulson sighed and rubbed his face.

“Still, I want to keep you around and I can see that you deeply regret what you did. You’re the biggest victim of your own mistakes and the backlash is even worse for you than for us. You’ve been cheated and lied to your whole life. The damage these people, Garrett most of all, did to you won’t just go away and it will take time to pick up the pieces of your life. As it will take time for this team to trust you again. But I don’t want to abandon you, Grant.”

Ward hardly dared to look up and still stared at his hands. There was blood under one of his nails and he was unsure if it was his own or the blood of one of his former team mates or of the Hydra agents. Blood was blood, no means to tell from here where it came from.

“This is what I can offer you”, Coulson said, ducking his head a bit to catch Ward’s gaze, who finally looked up. “You won’t be sent back to jail and we’ll keep you with us. In a few days, we’ll head to the Playground, because living on this plane is getting too risky, with Hydra gaining ground on us. The Playground will be our base of operations and this is where you’ll spend the next few months.”

Ward had never been at the Playground before, but he had heard that it was underground. And the thought of being kept underground for months sounded awfully like the dark hole he had been kept in since his arrest.

“Will I be able to go outside?”, Ward asked quietly, something like uneasiness already creeping up on him.

“Yeah”, Coulson replied, frowning earnestly. “Of course you can go outside. As I said, you won’t be sent back to prison. But there will be restrictions. No solitary walks in the beginning. I want you to spend your nights in a locked room and you’ll be wearing a tracker all the time. You won’t have access to every room on the Playground and since there will be other agents around, I want you to stay away from them. For your own sake as well as theirs. You’re not exactly Mr. Popular right now.”

Ward felt himself nodding in agreement. The terms sounded fair and it would give him much more freedom than he had had in the last few months.

“I’m not yet finished”, Coulson announced, looking intently at Ward. “There are three more terms. First, you’ll be helping us out with information about Hydra. Even if it isn’t much, I want to hear about it. Second, you won’t be going on missions with us any time soon. If all goes well, you’ll be allowed to help us out in the background, on the comms, but only under surveillance and only after you’ve gained back some trust from the team. But I don’t want you back in the field, for months, maybe years. Third, you’ll see a psychologist, every day in the first few months. There’s someone suitable at the Playground, another agent with a lot of experience. You’ll talk to her and she will afterwards report to me about your progress. The team and even I myself won’t know about what you tell her, but I expect you to open up to her completely.”

Already the second term had brought a frown onto Ward’s face, but it was the third term that had him shake his head. He would do anything to get back to the team, but he could not do that.

“I agree with everything, sir”, Ward replied, trying to keep his voice calm. “But I can’t accept the last term. I’m sorry, I’ll do something else, I’ll...”

“It’s not up for negotiation, Ward”, Coulson interrupted him rather sharply. “You’ll take the whole deal or it’s back to prison for you.”

Ward felt his heart beating in his throat and he had the unpleasant feeling that the walls were closing in on him. Coulson did not know what he was asking of him.

“You don’t understand, sir”, Ward began quietly, trying to keep the quivering out of his voice. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ to, but I _can’t_. It’s... not possible.”

“I understand that this won’t be easy for you”, Coulson replied, more patiently now. “But it’s necessary. You’re trying to get rid of a lifetime of manipulations. You can’t do this alone and I want you to accept help. This is what S.H.I.E.L.D. should’ve done years ago. You’re not only doing this for yourself, you’re also doing this for the team. You’re... unbalanced at the moment and I need you to work on it, because I can’t have you unravel at a moment when the team’s in danger. Not because you’re an instrument, but because I know how much this team means to you and because I know that you don’t exactly realize that you could endanger them again, but this time unwillingly. You’re a protector, I know hurting them is the last thing on your mind.”

Ward clenched his fists, trying to get his roaring emotions under control. Coulson did not understand, could not understand. It had taken Ward years to shut away the worst of his memories and he did not just do it out of fun, but because this was the only way he could function. Forcing him to bring all of his baggage to daylight would be nothing short of torture.

“This will destroy me!”, Ward choked out, his own helplessness making him angry. “Some things are buried in the past for a good reason and this is where I want to keep them. This won’t help me, it’ll just make me useless. I can’t help you and the team when I’m digging up the past!”

Coulson watched him intently and Ward could feel himself shaking under the gaze. He hated it, with all his heart.

“This is what I meant when I said you’re unbalanced”, the older man said quietly and carefully. “Believe me when I say that without help, it’ll only get worse. Sticking your head in the ground won’t help you, you’ll need to work through it. You can’t just shut out your feelings.”

Ward could not help but scoff at that, then bit out sardonically, “Yeah, it’s a weakness, I know. I’ve been told before.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized what he had said and instantly felt horrified at himself. These had been Garrett’s words and they had come from deep down. He had tried to shut out the voice of his former mentor in the last three weeks, not always with the same success.

“It’s okay, Grant”, Coulson soothed and Ward thought that he must probably look like he had seen a ghost. Great proof for his mental sanity. “You’ll work through it, I know you will. You’re strong. It’s Garrett’s fault that he didn’t see it.”

Ward was torn between bolting and breaking down completely, but finally decided on staring down at his hands again. His hands that had done so many bad things... How could Coulson still believe that there was something in him worth saving?

“You’ll be okay”, Coulson continued. “This is one of the reason why I don’t want you to come with us on missions at first. I’m not afraid that you’ll betray us again, but I know that you’ll need the time for yourself. You need to straighten out some things first.” He paused, then asked, “Will you come with us?”

There was really only one possible answer. It was either committing himself to this one and only chance at redemption or putting a bullet through his head. And Ward had always been a survivor.

“Yes”, he answered quietly, finally daring to look back up at Coulson.

“Good”, the older man replied, smiling happily. “Very good.”

 

_-Fin-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellll... would you like an epilogue? :-) I feel like writing an epilogue...


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the promised epilogue, which will definitely conclude this story. We’re still AU here, since things happened in the last few episodes that ran out differently than it will in this epilogue. Hope you like it anyway.  
>  I hope this story was as much fun for you to read as for me to write. Thanks for your constant support!

Ward sat in the dark, taking a gulp from the bottle of beer in his hands. The beer was rather cheap and too warm, but he could not help but think it was the best beer he had ever had. Well, or maybe he had just been going dry for much too long and he desperately needed this right now. The last time he had gone such a long stretch without drinking, he had been twelve. Thinking back to his teenage years just made him raise the bottle again, this time taking a much larger gulp. Great, now he even thought about his past when he was not forced to.

Four weeks into therapy and he still struggled not to smash his fist into the wall every time he left Agent Morrison’s office. To say that he had been reluctant to undergo therapy was the understatement of the year. The first two weeks he had been sure that talking about his past just made everything worse. And to be honest, it was by now pretty impossible for things to even _get_ worse. However, surprisingly, as of this and last week, the urge to hit something had become slightly less compulsive and perhaps he even slowly started seeing what all of this was about.

He was still feeling like he clung to a steep face, being unable to climb either up or down, with the wind almost tearing him off. For years he had not dared to look down, because he was sure that if he looked, he would be sucked into the abyss. But Agent Morrison, in her calm and completely collected and completely stubborn manner, had made him look down. Every _damn_ session. And, he had to admit, grudgingly, that he was still hanging on. Looking down was not destroying him. He thought he could see the shapes of what was down there by now and he slowly realized that the abyss was losing a bit of its terror every time he looked. Not that he knew how to get off that steep face, not by far, he was still as stuck as ever before. But at least he _knew_ now that he was stuck and maybe, if he kept looking, he might one day see a way that would lead to safer grounds.

Ward took another long gulp from his beer, mourning that the bottle was already half empty. Or half full, whatever.

Agent Morrison had warned him that there would be good days and bad days. Ward had had plenty of bad days so far. Every time he set a foot out of the office or the little storage room that they had converted into his room/cell, he met people who hated him. Not so much the team but the other agents at the Playground. He had lost count of how many times he was bumped into roughly or cursed at in the hallway. He tried to stay out of their way as best as possible and mostly resigned himself to be in the common areas only when he knew they would be mostly deserted. He had gotten used to the hostility directed at him and, after all, it was not like he did not deserve it. A reminder every now and then could not hurt.

There were other things that had messed him up more thoroughly. His low point had been about ten days into therapy when Agent Morrison had asked him about his relationship with his brothers, after nagging him about Garrett for days. Things had gone so bad that he had just got up about halfway into the session and left the office, shaking all over. He had been only moments away from tearing apart the whole place. Maybe it was the Berserker rage still in him, desperately searching for an outlet. Maybe it was just pent up frustration.

Coulson had visited him in the evening in his room. The director had told him in no uncertain terms that if Ward ever left another session prematurely again, this would end their arrangement once and for all. As soon as Coulson had left and locked the door, Ward had reached for the light bulb hanging from the ceiling and taken it apart. Before he had actually realized what he was doing, he had been sitting in the dark and held a small wire in one hand and a sharp metal piece in his other. Two options. Get out of here or end it, once and for all. Breathing heavily, he had finally decided to go for the third option. Hanging in there. With trembling hands he had put the light bulb together again and put it back up where it belonged. He had not slept that night.

However, just as Agent Morrison had promised, there had also been good days. Being cleared for light workouts again and being allowed back in the gym had been one of his brighter days. It was so much easier to deal with the aftermaths of his sessions when he could take everything out on the punching bag later.

The team was also helping. A small smile was tugging at his lips when he thought back to the day, a week ago, when Coulson had decided that Ward needed to do his share of chores, because Trip had complained that everyone was cleaning, cooking and maintaining the Playground, all except Ward.

‘He could do the laundry’, Skye had suggested, not without a teasing twinkle in her eyes. ‘He has great folding skills.’

‘Excellent thought’, Simmons had immediately agreed, not even trying to bite back her smile. ‘The last time Trip ironed my blouse, there were still wrinkles in it. I’m sure Ward would do it better. Nothing short of immaculacy where he comes in.’

Then they had given him two equally silly grins and when he had rolled his eyes at them, they had giggled. Giggled. Like schoolgirls.

‘Laundry it is’, Coulson had then decided and shot Ward a look. ‘There’s actually quite a big pile waiting in the laundry room. You got the time now?’

‘Yes, sir’, Ward had replied.

When he had turned around to get the job done, Simmons had called after him, ‘Just remember, you don’t need to iron the socks, Agent Ward!’

‘Or the underwear!’, Skye had added and then they had giggled again.

Even thinking about it made Ward snort to himself and suppress another roll of his eyes. Team antics. Only now he realized how much he had missed it. He could not even decide what made his heart beat faster, Simmons calling him agent (just a slip, but still) or Skye talking about underwear.

He had gotten used to his new chore and there were certainly worse things than doing the laundry. He actually did not mind it at all. There was something satisfying in sticking dirty clothes into a machine and pulling them out completely clean an hour later. And, yes, the team was teasing him about it, but ironing and folding clothes really _was_ his thing. Working out crinkles and neatly folding clothes was calming for him and gave him a sense of order. Well, and then there was the bonus that he was always left alone when doing the laundry. No one came down here and after all, he was doing something useful.

He shook his head to himself, then drank again from the bottle and rubbed his beard that was much shorter now. Suddenly he heard steps coming closer, then the door opened and the light was turned on, making him blink.

“You know”, Skye’s voice rang out clearly and it took only another second until she stepped into his line of view, “hiding doesn’t really work when you wear a tracker.”

There was a laptop in her hands and her brown eyes were twinkling warmly.

“I’m not hiding”, Ward replied, though that was exactly what he was doing.

“No?”, she shot back, giving him a look that clearly said she was not buying it. “What are you doing then, sitting in the dark laundry room and... are you drinking beer?”

“Yeah”, he answered, raising his beer in a salute then emptied it in one gulp.

“Where did you get that from?”, she asked suspiciously, scrunching up her nose in a way that always made him struggle not to smile. Sometimes she was just too cute for her own good.

“I was a specialist, Skye”, he replied in his best SO tone. “Give me enough credit to steal a beer.”

“I thought you had abdicated from your thug life”, she commented sarcastically, though there was no real bite behind it. Three weeks ago, this would have made him cringe, but things had gotten much more relaxed by now.

He gave her a small smile, then said, “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“I know someone else who will die even harder if he is a no-show tonight”, she quipped, then stretched out a hand to where he sat between the washing machine and the tumble drier. “Come on, you can’t hide forever.”

He looked up at her and he could see the encouragement in her eyes and the half-smile on her face. Sometimes he wondered how he had deserved to meet someone like her. There was so much darkness in him and so much light in her. He suppressed the thought, then reached for her hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. Her hand was warm and firm, not soft anymore, and he had to force himself to let go.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Skye”, he murmured, evading her gaze. “He only just got back, he’ll need some time...”

“Bullshit”, she interrupted, crossing her arms in front of her. “He wants to see you. He asked about you. I’m sure it’ll do you some good, the both of you.”

Ward sighed, then asked resignedly, “I don’t have any choice, do I?”

“As I said”, she replied with a smirk. “You can’t hide forever. Come on, they’re waiting.”

He followed her slowly out of the room and down the deserted hallway. At least it was late enough for most of the other agents to be already in bed. _Perfect opportunity to slip away._ No. Ward shook his head slightly, banning the unwanted voice from his thoughts.

They came closer to the briefing room and Skye paused only long enough to send him a reassuring smile, before she opened the door and ushered him inside.

“I found him, D.C.”, she announced and Ward saw Coulson turning around, giving him another one of his friendly nods. May and Trip were talking, leaning against the wall next to Coulson, and beside them was Simmons and then... Fitz.

The moment their gazes met, Ward swallowed hard. The young scientist looked the same as before, no visible signs of any trauma, but Ward could not stop the film that immediately started in his head. Fitz screaming his name again and again, begging him to stop. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to remain calm and step further into the room.

Since the scientist stared at him out of wide eyes and made no move to talk to him, Ward decided to make the start.

“Hello Fitz”, he said, coming to a halt a safe distance away from the scientist. May and Trip were still talking and Ward appreciated their effort to keep up a seemingly normal front, but there was no way he missed their eyes darting in his direction every few seconds. They were definitely ready to move him away from Fitz should his presence prove to be too distressing for the scientist and Ward was the last person that could blame them for it. They were protecting the team, from all outside dangers. And Ward was definitely more on the outside than on the inside of the team at the moment.

It took a few seconds and some more staring on Fitz’ part before the scientist swallowed hard, then replied, “Hello Ward.” There was another pause, filled with awkward silence, before Fitz blurted out, “What’s with the beard?”

Ward forcefully exhaled the breath he had been holding, the sound something between a laugh and a sigh. Seriously? After everything that had happened, this is what Fitz wanted to know? Then again, he would talk about anything Fitz wanted, as long as it meant his presence was still allowed.

“It used to be longer”, Ward murmured in reply, one hand running over his chin. “The beard. I trimmed it when I arrived at the Playground.”

It was true. He had gotten annoyed by the bush in his face, but somehow it had not felt right to shave it off completely. It would have reminded him and everyone else of before. So his facial hair was now something in between stubble and a full beard. He rather liked it this way.

Fitz nodded at that and when he kept silent, Ward asked him quietly, “How are you doing?”

The scientist evaded his gaze, but answered anyway, “Better. Much better. Still got some tremors every now and then, but they are less frequent now. I would’ve returned much sooner, but Coulson forbid it.”

Fitz shot the director an accusatory look, but Coulson just raised his hands and gave a small smile.

“Some things just need time, Fitz”, he replied. “You won’t heal from one moment to the other.”

He gave Fitz a long look and just before he averted his gaze, his eyes met Ward’s briefly. It made Ward swallow, hard.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re doing better, Fitz”, he said, slightly breathless, while all he wanted to do was telling him how sorry he was over and over again. He would apologize, but not right now, when Fitz might think it was just a cheap excuse.

“Yah, I’m also glad you’re here now”, Fitz replied, looking at his hands and wringing them slowly. Then he finally lifted his gaze and looked at Ward. “I’ve got questions. There are things I don’t understand. And I’m a scientist, I _need_ to understand.”

Ward winced, but nodded nonetheless.

“I’ll try to answer them”, he replied, though he was unsure if he could give a satisfying answer to every one of Fitz’ questions. Hell, he sometimes did not even know himself why he had done certain things. Maybe he would talk to Agent Morrison about it.

Again the silence spread and even May and Trip had stopped talking, so that Ward became acutely aware that it would take time for things to get less awkward. Coulson saved them all by clapping his hands twice.

“Guys”, he began. “Tomorrow, some of us will leave on a longer mission and we’ll be spread over half the world again. But tonight, we’re all here. I thought it fitting to sit together and celebrate. It’s Trip’s turn to cook tonight and we all know that no one makes better tacos on this base.”

The specialist in question gave a self-satisfied grin at that, before Simmons asked, “Who’s in for a game of Scrabble until Trip’s done with cooking?”

Coulson and Fitz nodded while May shook her head.

“I’m out. I’ve got to prepare for tomorrow.”

“Skye?”, Simmons asked hopefully.

“No way”, Skye replied. “You know how bad I am at it. But I’ll be the referee, as usual.”

All heads turned to Ward and he realized he probably looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. The whole attention of the team did do that to him lately.

“I’m not sure...”, he replied, barely preventing himself from shuffling his feet.

“Don’t be like that, Ward”, Simmons said, smiling mischievously. “You’re just afraid my Britishness will beat you again.”

“Come on”, Skye prompted as well. “You can’t sulk alone in the dark all day.”

Ward pulled himself together and gave them a nod. Then, because he knew they would like it, he replied, “I _excel_ at sulking in the dark, Skye, and no, Simmons, I’m not afraid of your Britishness. You need to realize that the Empire will strike back eventually.”

Skye’s mouth fell open and she stared at him in fake astonishment.

“Oh my god, did you just...?”, she began, fanning herself with both of her hands. “Was this a pop culture reference? Jemma, get the calendar, we got to highlight this day in red color!”

Ward rolled his eyes at her, then realized that Fitz was smiling a bit to himself. Which felt so _damn_ good. He ignored Skye’s teasing and slowly trailed after them towards the lounge area. Coulson was waiting for him and held the door open, giving him one of his small, knowing smiles.

Ward felt himself returning it easily.


End file.
